Crash into You
by Agent Xero
Summary: Peter and Olivia rekindle their relationship, but a new string of murders puts the the Fringe team on edge, while trying to save the life of a child that hangs delicately in the balance and put a stop to a psychopathic killer's deadly trail.  P/O,pre 3x14
1. Undisclosed Desires

Greetings Fringe fans! Thanks for stopping by! While this may be my first Fringe fic, I'm not new to the writing world. I'm stepping out of my comfort zone a bit (I normally write Power Rangers fics, don't hate!) and trying my hand at something else. I've been a Fringe fan since the beginning, and after rewatching "6B" over and over, I had an idea cross into my head that I've been aching to get out.

This will be AU, occurring before "6B" as a standalone from the season. I had this idea with a Power Rangers fanfic a while ago, and if my thought process is correct, I'm certain you will love it! We all know what happened at the end of "6B", however I'm taking a different approach, hence the AU. Just a warning, there's going to be angst!

To really get the feel of this, I've added some back ground music for your listening pleasure (.com/watch?v=epUOoPuiyZM&feature=related), I think it really enhances it.

Happy reading! Comments always appreciated!

Rated: T for now, rating may change as the story progresses

Setting: Boston, MASS.

Time: before episode "6B"

Summary: A string of seemingly unrelated murders brings the Fringe team together once again, however this case isn't as clean cut as it seems. Meanwhile, a new threat hits close to home that puts Olivia at wits end, and brings about a new victim that she may not be able to save.

**Crash into You**

By: Stephanie

White Time Ranger

_Chapter 1: Undisclosed Desires_

Their glasses clicked and sent out a small chime that hung in the room like the heavy winter air outside, so cold and desolate, so isolated from the world. As quickly as the sound came it went, quietly slipping away and disappearing into the air. Wind howled angrily against the walls of the old house bringing about the only noise to echo the glasses. The logs fought for the fire's attention, hissing and crackling at one another as the flames licked the wood hungrily. A small _pop_ came from the fireplace; the warmth radiating and heating the room as it send a small ray of orange-red light across them.

They sat across from each other next to the fireplace. She had wanted to talk, but when the time came, words escaped her. All she could do was sit, hunched and defeated, sipping her whiskey, unable to look him in the eye for the moment while she gathered her thoughts. The silence between them didn't bother him in the slightest; give her the time to figure out what she wanted to say. Even if she didn't speak a word, it was enough to make him somewhat satisfied. She was back in his life, but not the way he wanted, and he couldn't help but blame himself for all the rifts that came between them.

He couldn't help but let his eyes wonder from the carpet to the chair where she sat, staring aimlessly into the bottom of the whiskey glass, if searching for an answer. Or the right words to say. He followed the angelic outline the fire cast on her body, following it until it reached her shoulders. She always had good posture until now, when she showed up at his door step only minutes ago. Her upper body was bent, curved, almost defeated as her elbows rested on her knees, her thumbs outlining the top of the glass. He caught the glow on her face, smoothing out her skin even more. Her lips, embossed by the fire made her even more desirable. Her blonde hair fell over one side of her face, a curtain to shield out the quiet darkness around them.

But what caught him most, what he loved about her, were her eyes. Her brilliant brown eyes that on many occasions he found himself daydreaming in. Her magnetic stare that brought him closer to her each time, a window into the soul of a woman she was. What he found there was not something he expected to see. Sorrow. Heart break. Loss. Emptiness. Loneliness. Regret. Betrayal. Fear. The fire that had one driven Olivia Dunham was extinguished, leaving its smoldering ashes behind and Peter to blame.

"You look tired," Peter said, his voice low, raspy as he found the words to break the ice thin silence between them, testing it before putting all his weight behind his statement. Her body remained frozen where she sat, the only movement coming from her glassy eyes as they moved and connected with his. "Not sleeping well?"

Her lips parted as she began to speak, "No." The simple answer she gave pushed past her lips, small and quiet, a whisper barely audible. The heaviness of her heart was evident as she swallowed back the words she wanted to say. "Peter," she whispered his name, but lost her words once again, the lump in her throat choking them back once again. "How…" she turned her head, the warm glow from the fire lost, "how could you now know that it… that she wasn't me?"

Peter's stomach turned uneasily. "I couldn't. Olivia, she was much like you, and at the same time, she wasn't. The change was what I noticed, how happy you," he bit his tongue, "how happy she was. I thought to myself, can this really be happening? All the wickedness of the world melted away when I was with her, when I thought she was you. When I found out, I was dumbfounded." He moved forward in the chair, only inches from her. He could see the sadness in her eyes; tears lined her cheek in a shallow waterfall, falling slowly. "When I found out, Olivia, was the day I got the message from you from the other side. When I saw you lying in that hospital bed, my heart sank, and it was like I was looking at a-a," his voice trailed off.

"A ghost?" she finished his sentence, the sadness in her eyes suddenly changed to anger and her grip tightened around the glass, her voice growing in amplification. "Peter, you were the one thing that kept me alive on the other side, the one person that I wanted so desperately to return to, to forget everything that happened and pick up where we left off. The only thing that remains here now, is exactly that. A ghost."

Olivia stood quickly, the stagnant blood rushed from her head, making her dizzy. She dropped the glass, spilling the last of the contents onto the carpet. "All you can do is keep saying 'you're sorry'. I know you still have feelings for her. I know you think about her. I know when you see me, you see her." Tears glistened in her eyes as they continued to fall. "When you kissed me, you kissed her."

Peter began to stand slowly, confronting her and standing straight, staring into the depth of her emotions. "I said I was sorry for what had happened. I've moved on, Olivia, moved past her, let her go. All because you are here. You came back into my life. You are here. Olivia, all I ever wanted was you." His voice dropped in pitch, as he raised a hand and cupped her cheek, wiping the tears from her face. "All I ever wanted," he raised his other hand, embracing her face in his palms, feeling her pulse race through her skin, "was _you._"

Olivia drew in a deep, quivering breath and released it as she stared into Peter's eyes and saw the longing that rested behind them, a resonating desire that burned through her body as he held her face, his fingers rested gently on her neck as he wiped the cascading tears from her eyes. Every inch of her was on fire, her fingers, her toes, and her heart as it raced at the gentle touch he offered. She swallowed hard, the dry lump in her throat swelled even more, her voice escaping her lips in nothing more than a small and quivering whisper.

"You've always had me."

Peter said nothing as he moved towards her, keeping their eyes locked and kissed her slowly, her eyelashes brushed against his cheek. His lips collided with hers as he tried to unlock the chains of the emotions that bind her, giving Olivia a key to freedom, giving her the okay to finally let go. Peter felt her freeze beneath his hands, her body tensed as he kissed her again, deeper, pulling her from the darkness that kept a strong hold on her. Peter pulled back, his hands still placed on her cheeks and stared into her eyes, looking for the key that she was free.

Olivia said nothing as she leaned in again and captured him in another deep, passionate kiss, bracing herself against his chest with her hands, feeling his heart beat through his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer to him, afraid this time of letting go, of losing her again deep within the cavern of her thoughts and emotions. One kiss after another their bodies worked in motion, drinking from one another, an elixir of life and lust that both had been denied for too long.

In one swift movement Peter lifted her up, carrying her gracefully up the stairs, almost floating, and into his bed. Laying her down gently he ran his hands up and down her body, a craving he wanted, he desired. He needed to survive. He'd do anything to show Olivia that she was his addiction. Their lips had not separated as he ran his fingers through her hair, their bodies entwining like a helix, connecting in multiple locations, becoming a single body, mind and soul.

Olivia pushed up against him, sitting Peter up and moving closer towards him, straddling him, her lips not letting go, a move that even surprised Peter. Slowly, carefully, he moved his hands up and down her back, caressing her gently. She took in another deep breath as his lips moved to the valley of her neck, tracing her skin, outlining the curves of neck. Coming back up for air he kissed her again and felt her stop half way. Opening his eyes he found hers connected with his once again. They said nothing, both afraid of spoiling the moment.

Olivia took his hands from behind her and placed them on her abdomen, her eyes never leaving his as she began to unbutton her shirt and threw it carelessly on the floor, his coarse hands resting on her bare stomach. Peter saw a beautiful desire in her eyes, the desire only a woman could express without words. Her eyes stayed in contact with his as she tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his body and felt the rush of heat coming from his chest.

For whatever reason she couldn't fathom, Olivia couldn't remove her gaze from his. Peter wanted her. Peter wanted her. A small smile curled the sides of her mouth. He wanted _her_. Breaking the contact he arched his neck upward and stole another kiss, beginning the game all over again. Whatever anger Olivia had at him melted as they continued to undress; he treated her body delicately and dangerously at the same time. Soon enough, nothing separated them but skin.

Peter leaned forward again and pulled a light sheet over their bare bodies as he continued to explore hers, the beautiful temple of a goddess for his worship. Every curve delicately crafted, every crevice diligently carved was his to explore, a cavern of wonders that brought low, delicious moans from her as he explored. His hands, his lips, and his tongue mapping her body in any way imaginable.

"_Peter_," she breathed as he brought his lips back to hers, and he found the nesting between her legs. Raising her hips to his, they became one, a rocking rhythmic motion with waves of lust rolling between them. Olivia's body pulsated as Peter touched her, a sensation she had long forgotten. Her breathing deepened as Peter sat up again, and she fell onto him. Their fingers laced, their tongues entwined as Peter brought her hands above her head and kissed her deeply again, tasting the lust on her tongue, the peppermint desire that rested on her lips, sweet and refreshing.

Peter grunted as he brought their hands behind her, pushing her chest outward as he kissed her bare, sparking chest, her heart beat echoing in his ears as she moaned again, sweat dripping from He let go, her arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled her closer and squeezed her against him. He felt her swallow hard as his forehead rested against her neck and her breathing pattern that mimicked their actions.

Peter felt her body groan against his, her muscles tense. The fear and abandon he saw in her drifted away, revealing a side of her he never knew, the lustful, pleasure driven woman he had longed for years to know. In a final moment of passion she kissed his again as they climaxed, sending a shock wave through Olivia's body that made her hold her breath and release, her muscles around him pulsed and finally released, all the stress and aggravation over the past few months was gone, leaving her with a pleasurable sigh.

Exhausted they fell back to the bed with a gently bounce. Peter panted along with her as she fanned his sweat stricken hair line. Their eyes connected once again as a smile began to flood her face. She swallowed and continued to pant, her muscles aching from their love making session. Feeling Peter's body tremble he moved out of her and to the side, still holding her in his arms, still afraid to let go. Olivia swallowed once again, her mouth too dry for words. Peter returned the smile and slowly kissed her once again, longer, softer. For what they had done, no words could describe.

"Olivia," Peter said, "you're glowing."

She burst out into laughter, a hearty jolt that sent Peter into a laughing fit as well, causing his tired body to collapse onto hers, his head resting on her chest as she cradled his head and lightly kissed his forehead.

"Of all the people that should be glowing, you peg me." She chuckled once again. "That's ironic." He raised his head, his chin resting delicately over her breast bone. "Thank you, Peter," she said, her eyes glistening against the moonlight.

"For what, may I ask?"

Her smile broadened. "For choosing me." Peter couldn't help but smile wider and kissed her again, bringing his head to rest on her chest. For the first time in a long time, Olivia felt her eye lids become heavy with fatigue, her heart rate drop and her muscles relax. Her shoulders sunk into the cotton sheets as she drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes as sleep quickly tucked around her; a blanket wrapping her is ease and sent her off to sleep.

Downstairs the door opened as Walter arrived home earlier than planned, due to an incoming snow storm in the area. The first thing he noticed was a black SUV parked in the drive way, the plates all too familiar. The second, a smoky scent of lavender and vanilla, the perfume struck a loud cord in his memory. In the living room, the fire began to die down, casting a shadow on the two glasses and the open whiskey bottle. He closed the door quietly and glanced around. The last, and most significant, was the atmosphere. All the tension in the house the last few weeks was gone, replaced by a warm, comforting sensation that brought a smile to the scientist's face.

He crept up the stairs quietly and put his ear to Peter's door. Two different breathing patterns were audible. One loud, snoring freight train he identified as Peter, and another was softer, more at rest and ease than that of his son's. Putting the pieces together Walter let out a happy chuckle as his insides flipped with excitement. He didn't have to open the door to know who was behind it.

Peter and Olivia slept soundly, warmed in the bitter February night by the comfort of the other, a smile portrayed on their faces. The wind had died down a bit since the clouds moved out, creating a peaceful, silent bliss around them. The only sound heard was the quiet buzz of Olivia's phone, knocked to the ground in the heat of the moment and hidden beneath her shirt. It buzzed a few more times before going to voice mail, and the calls missed menu opened, the word _Broyles_ blinking across the screen…


	2. Bodies and Butterflies

**Bodies and Butterflies**

"Dunham," she spoke into the receiver, answering and sending what was probably the tenth voicemail she had and taking calls as they flooded her phone. She had forgotten to take her phone off silent after coming out of her department meeting and driving to the liqueur store to grab the fated bottle of whiskey that was the precursor to her rushed morning.

"_I've been trying to call you all god-damned night, Dunham, were the hell have you been!"_

Olivia winced at the stinging words of Broyles as she picked up the phone. Her ear began to burn at the reprimand Broyles slapped against her. A silent frustration entered through her receiver as he quietly waited for an answer to why she had not any calls, text messages or e-mails he sent, needing her for a new investigation that had found its way to the Fringe department around three in the morning. She bit her lip, thinking of a quick response.

"I apologize, sir, my," she grabbed the first validation that came to mind, "my phone broke, dropped it by accident down the stairwell coming back from the store. I had to grab a new one this morning before heading into the office."

Broyles huffed. _"That's the third phone you've gone through this month, Dunham. I had Agent Farnsworth contact Dr. Bishop and Peter; they'll be meeting us there as well. I hope you didn't eat breakfast, this one's a bit… gruesome."_

"I'll be there in about ten minutes, sir." She hit end and placed her phone back in the cup holder. Exactly the way she liked to start off her mornings. A cup of coffee, bowl of oatmeal, and a nice, sadistic murder to investigate. Sighing, Olivia licked her lips, ultimately regretting not grabbing a tube of Chap Stick. That was the one thing she hated about the winter; freezing temperatures that chilled one to the bone, drying out and aggravating every exposed orifice to the cruel Boston winds. She shuttered at the mere thought of it, the hair on her arms crawling as a small shiver made its way up and down her arms. Or maybe it wasn't the winter that made her lips go dry.

Something else, however, made her stomach turn inside out. Blood, guts and gore didn't bother her as much as it did in the beginning. No, what made the fearless Olivia Dunham's stomach uneasy was the thought of seeing Peter this morning, and the memories of their night together. Sure, maybe the three or four glasses of whiskey got her head swimming a bit, and maybe it was the trust factor that she secretly employed in him. Maybe it was a mistake to have been with him last night. A romantic and equally terrifying, blissful night that had put a smile on her face and left her feeling well rested. She had forgotten what it felt like to be wanted, to be needed; what it felt like to be touched and loved the way any woman would dream it would be like.

These fluttering butterflies were what made this morning different for her. Instead of grabbing her normal attire, the professional black and white she found safety in, she found herself reaching for a pair of gray slacks and a deep, emerald green button up shirt that put a shining accent on her eyes. It was what made her decide to keep her hair down and let it flow freely from her shoulders; a look she had caught Peter gazing at on numerous occasions. It was what made her reach into her medicine cabinet and open up the bottle of sweet lavender perfume she had bought almost three years ago. For whatever reasons she could not fathom, she wanted to look nice today. No. Ravishing. No. Exquisite.

Pulling up on to the scene found herself staring into the vast emptiness of the open warehouse, brought to life by the buzz of car engines and radios. She unbuckled and placed her forehead on the steering wheel, begging the nerves in her stomach to calm down and ultimately regretting what she chose to wear. Someone would notice something different. She huffed, drew in a deep breath or two and exited into the winter air, grabbing her gun and badge and stepped out of the car. Today was strangely warm, making her leave her coat in the car. Her eyes continued to scan her surroundings.

What was lacking from the scene was the Bishop's car. That was until a moving van across the way turned a corner, revealing the old, but reliable sedan, its doors locked and its inhabitants most likely inside. The butterflies sped up and her muscles shook slightly.

_Shit._

Olivia grabbed the last safe lungful of air and began her walk up the winding cement steps to the loading dock entrance, gave her name to the local cop and entered. All around her, the sun shown brilliantly through the broken windows that surrounded the upper walls of the warehouse and illuminated the scene nicely. At least today, she thought, it was sunny.

"About time you showed up," Broyles said as he entered and handed her a folder. "I was beginning to think we scared you off."

She grinned. "We've been working together for how many years; I don't think you can scare me off that easily."

"Case in point. The body was found this morning around four in the morning by a garbage man coming to collect the cans. We know very little about the victim, twenty-four year old Veronica Marshall, according to the driver's license. She was found beaten, battered, bruised and dead. No signs of forced entry into the warehouse, but there was definitely a struggle."

"So if it appears to be a," she paused to think of the word, "normal case, then why was Fringe called in?"

Broyles handed her the folder, "Come see for yourself."

They rounded the corner to find Walter was examining the body; her blank, lifeless eye stared into Olivia's as she entered the scene. An unsettling eeriness crept over her as she walked closer. Immediately she felt the warmth of the sun leave her skin, replaced by a damp, aching cold that bit at her cheeks. The small smile she had managed to put on was gone. In front of her lay a woman, battered, bruised, bloody and nude. What struck her the most was the dead woman's eyes, for in them she saw the true meaning of horror in what seemed to be her final minutes. The blue of her eyes cut razors into Olivia as an unsettling wave of nausea swept over her and her mouth ran dry. Olivia swallowed hard as she bent down next to Walter, who turned to her with his normal charm as she stopped next to him.

"Agent Dunham!" Walter exclaimed, the wrinkles of his skin curled into a full faced smile, "Beautiful day is it not? How did you sleep last night you look positively radiant this morning!"

She grinned at him, "I slept fine, thank you. What do we know so far, Walter, anything?"

Walter bounced up off his kneeling spot and walked around to face her. "Unfortunately, the only thing I can decipher is that this woman died a tragic, horrifying and painful death, from what I can imagine. She had ligature marks on her neck, suggesting strangulation," he opened the dead woman's eye lid, "But what's curious is no broken vessels in the eyes, or orbital edema from the backup of fluid as she was either held down or hung."

Olivia rubbed her throat and swallowed hard. Maybe the whiskey from last night wasn't a good idea after all. Her stomach continued to do flip flops at the uneasiness she felt at this scene.

"What is curious as well, look at these marks, puncture sites on the inside of her arm, opposite her elbows," Walter raised the woman's arm to reveal several small, dime sized bruises. "It appears that our victim was either an illicit drug user, or a test subject. Which one is still to be determined."

"Track marks," Olivia said, counting at least ten on one arm. "She was found in an abandoned warehouse, looks like a bad night gone wrong. So what makes this a Fringe case?"

From behind her Peter entered with a few petri dishes and handed them to Walter. "Did you show Agent Dunham her belly button, Walter?" Walter, however, was back in his zone, examining the bruises on her arm. Peter huffed. "Here," he said, bent down and removed the sheet where a pool of blood had gathered. "See?"

Olivia turned her head in both awe and disgust. "It's missing," she stated. Where the woman's belly button used to be was a four in by four inch chunk of flesh removed, all the way down to the woman's pelvis, clearly seen. Her stomach took another turn. "That's… disgusting."

Peter grinned. "That's not the worst of it, either. Walter seems to think this woman was raped before meeting her fate; she's got a lot of bruising on her inner thighs and near the pubic bone. Scratches and cuts are all over her, poor girl." Peter went to remove the sheet but Olivia stopped him, grabbing his hand as her fingers burned.

"I'd rather not," she said. Quickly she removed his hand from his. She stood and got a face full of sun, a warm welcome to the dampness of the warehouse. She felt Peter's eyes on her as she stared into the burning star, trying to erase the image from her mind.

"You look very nice to day, Olivia," Peter whispered, bringing her back to Earth. "Green suits you well."

"Peter," she squeaked, trying not to hint at anything, trying to hide the uneasiness she felt. From where he kneeled, continuing to examine her body, Walter glanced up and his grin grew in size at the secret he kept, their secret. "Morning to you too."

Peter raised an eye brow, teasing her. "You look well rested, finally get some sleep?"

She turned to him and shook her head, forcing a smile, "Yea, I did, actually." She pulled the corners of her lips together and flattened them, staring at Peter, warning him silently to not continue onward with whatever thought process he had in mind.

"I know that face all too well," he said and grinned at her, chuckling. "This place gives me the creeps too." He continued to connect with her fiery gaze. "Walter, find anything else?"

The aging man stood. "Until I do an autopsy I won't know. Peter," he began.

Peter threw his hands up, begging for Walter to not repeat himself as it did, "Bring the body back to your lab, I know. I'll go speak with Broyles to have it arranged. If you'd like to ride back with the body, again, before you ask, I'll see what I can do."

Walter leaped for joy as he gathered his equipment and the coroner's began to wrap up the body. He turned to Olivia and Peter excitedly, "Nothing better than a murder mystery at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday. Son, I'll meet you back at the lab." He pranced away in the only way Walter knew, a hop in his step and a body in an ambulance, ready for transport, leaving Olivia and Peter alone in close proximity. She could feel his eyes on her, running down her neck line and soaking in her presence.

"Olivia" Peter turned to her.

"I'm going to head back to the office and begin to get a report typed, I'll meet you in the lab in a bit," she said and left abruptly, leaving Peter confused behind her. He had seen the look in her eyes before, the uncertainty in them, the small ounce of fear that had taken the Olivia he knew last night. He grunted, wondering- hoping- that she didn't regret last night. After all, he didn't. Peter continued to watch her walk away, talk with Broyles and then head for her car. As she buckled she looked out the window and saw him staring at her with a small smile on his face.

Why was she running from this again, the answer eluded her as she turned the ignition on and left in a hurry, running from a fear she had yet to identify. Immediately she left like an idiot. She could have smiled, greeted him and returned his secret smile, sealing away a wonderful gift she received from him, and it was all hers. She did enjoy herself last night, in fact, it was one of the best nights she had had in a while. Her stomach continued to turn in confusion as she made her way through the streets of Boston, running from an unknown fear. She had not had this feeling in a while… safety, security, passion. She gave herself a thousand reasons for what had made her run, but in the end it came down to only one.

Turning a corner she forced herself to pull over and calm down, feeling her heart rate escalate and her breathing increase. Her eyes watered as she took deep breaths and placed her head on the steering wheel, the cool leather felt refreshing against her burning forehead. She was falling, and falling hard. After John, she made herself a promise that she wouldn't get involved with a co-worker, not ever again. The pain of losing someone she cared for was enough, to have to go through it a second time was something her heart could not tolerate. As much as she tried to push the thought out of her head, his voice, his scent, his lips were the only thing invading her mind.

She drew in a few deep breaths and swallowed. Every time she saw him she got butterflies. Every time they kissed her body betrayed her and shook with desire. Every time he saw his beautiful eyes she felt a longing comfort and compassion she had been robbed of once before. No matter how much she fought, no matter how she tried to talk herself out of it, she couldn't. She couldn't help it. She could deny it all she wanted, but by the time she put the truck in drive, she was certain of only one thing. Olivia turned the SUV around and made her way towards the inner city, looking for refuge from uncertainty in the only person she knew who could give her advice as to what to do, and the answers she wanted to hear.

* * *

_Downtown Boston  
12:15pm_

"Aunt Liv!" a small voice exclaimed as the door opened, Ella jumped into Olivia's arms, overjoyed by the surprise visit from her. "What are you doing here; you're supposed to be catching the bad guys!"

Olivia smiled wide, "Well I was in the area and decided to stop by and say hello." She sniffed the air as a light scent of cheddar and bread crumbs filled her nose. "Mom making macaroni and cheese again?"

"Don't you complain about my mac-and-cheese, Liv," Rachel called from the kitchen. "It's fantastic."

"And about the only thing you can cook without burning," Olivia teased as Ella hug around her neck happily. She kissed her niece on the cheek and set her down, "I need to talk with your mom, baby girl, go play." Ella happily obliged and ran into the living room to watch TV. The mask she put on left, and Rachel saw right through it.

"Liv, what's wrong?" Rachel asked, stirring the macaroni in the pot, "you look like you're going to be sick."

"I slept with Peter," she burst out loud and sighed, running her fingers through her hair, taking in a deep breath and trying to calm herself down, finally getting it off her chest. She swallowed hard as Rachel handed her a glass of water. "And before you ask, no, this isn't related to whether or not I think I'm pregnant." Rachel said nothing, her face a blank slate, soaking in the news that Olivia just delivered. Seconds passed like years. "For Christ's sake Rachel, say something," Olivia pleaded.

Rachel stood emotionless, then slowly and achingly, smiled at her sister. "Well it's about time you two hit it off." Olivia choked on the water, not expecting that answer at all.

"What do you mean by that?"

Rachel grinned at her. "What did you want to hear? _'Liv what's wrong with you, why did you do that? You work together, this is a bad idea?'_"

Olivia threw her hands into the air, "Yes!" She exclaimed and removed her coat as the heat crept up her neck. She pulled out the chair, and sat down, putting her head in her hands. "You're supposed to tell me that this _is_ a bad idea, that I'm only going to get hurt again and that this was a mistake."

"Honestly, I think it's a good thing," Rachel said. "I'm going to give it to you straight. Over the past two years you've been working with him, I have never seen you smile more, or seem more relaxed. You always glow around him. And quite frankly he compliments you. You're intense, for lack of a better word, and Peter is seemingly, care free. You're a pain in the ass sometimes, and he knows how to put you in your place." Olivia stared at her sister, not expecting this side of a conversation at all. "He brings out the best of you, Liv, the side that can show emotion, the one that can leave work at work and just enjoy yourself for a night. The romantic, kinky side of you that I haven't seen since you first started dating John."

Olivia was still silent, taking in Rachel's words. Rachel continued to speak, "If that's what you're worried about, about getting your heart broken, I think you'd break his before he breaks yours by not seeing this through. If your history with John is what's preventing you from moving forward, don't let it; and if I know you as well as I do, that's exactly what's making you afraid. You can mask it all you want, Liv, but I can see right through it and so can Peter."

Olivia went to open her mouth, but no words came out. She was silenced by Rachel, her mind unable to process. Rachel sat down and placed her hand on Olivia's shoulders. "You've had it rough, Liv. From what you went through with Dad, his alcoholism, the abuse, the shooting," she paused, "With John, it's hard for you to trust anyone, men in particular. You know, every day for what Jake did to you, I don't blame you. No one can. That's why you're so good at your job. Nothing can bring you down, except for a little crush that brings everything tumbling." Rachel's voice dropped in pitch, softening. "You've been alone for so long, Liv that you've forgotten what it's like to feel loved. Peter can do that, he has done that. Don't push him away."

Olivia grinned. "I thought profiling was my job."

Rachel chucked. "Well I learned from the best, what can I say?" Olivia's grin faded. "Let him in, Liv, tell Peter everything. Be happy for once, live it up, you absolutely deserve it. So what if you spent a night in bed with him. You may not show it, but it's in your eyes. You mind says no, but your heart begs for it. Tell him know what makes FBI Agent Dunham tick and what makes her weak at the knees." Rachel grinned. "Cause if he's anything like Adam was in the sack when you were seventeen, I'd be impressed."

Olivia gasped and gave Rachel a playful smack on the shoulder, "You _swore_ you'd never bring that up again," making Olivia burst into laughter and embarrassment, her cheeks flushing.

"So he was good," she raised an eyebrow and Olivia blushed even more. "You're pushing thirty-two, have some fun. Give Peter a run for his money. I know you can." She sipped a glass of water. "And then I want details." This pulled another laughing fit from Olivia, some tension rolling off her shoulders. "If not, I'll bring up the dirty, kinky details of your sex life pre-FBI to Peter and scare him away myself. I'm sure he'd _love_ to hear that."

"You wouldn't," Olivia challenged, but saw the persistent stare Rachel gave her. "Maybe you would then." She huffed, sighing. "If I don't-" she stopped, Rachel's face hadn't changed. "You'll come and kick my ass, won't you?" Rachel nodded and Olivia shook her head, sighing again. "Tomorrow."

"Tonight." Rachel pushed. "Tell him tonight, because if you don't, you never will, I know you."

A small smile formed at the corners of Olivia's mouth. "Tonight," she echoed. "Thanks, Rach I need to get back into the office. Call you tomorrow?"

Rachel nodded, "looking forward to it. Ella!" she called, "lunch! Come say good bye to Aunt Liv." The pitter patter of her feet carried the young girl into Olivia's arms once again.

"Bye Aunt Liv," Ella kissed her cheek. "You look so beautiful today, I forgot to tell you that when I saw you."

"You too, baby girl, exquisite." Olivia smiled and kissed her again, setting her down. Rachel handed Olivia her coat and leaned against the wall.

"She's right. Green suits you well, wear it more often." Rachel hugged her and smiled. Olivia opened the door and left.

* * *

_Harvard Lab  
3:45pm_

"Walter, can I ask you something?" Peter asked from across the lab as he began to comb through the files Broyles sent over on the victim, expecting Olivia to already be there. He flipped through pictures, bank records, even a few student loans she still had, taking it all in, "What time did you get home last night? I thought I heard you around two in the morning." Peter prayed for the answer he wanted to hear.

Walter handed Astrid the woman's liver, sniffing it. Alcohol seemed to seep from it as it was placed in a scale next to the table. "Around seven, "he lied, "there was a terrible snow storm coming up the coast, and I wanted to get back home so I caught an earlier plane. Do not fear, my son, Nina arranged everything for me. Astrid, smell this," he said and pushed the liver in her face, wrinkling her nose as she narrowly avoided it.

"Smells like hand sanitizer," she commented, removing her nose from the abuse of the organ, "or a rotten hangover. One of those two, either way, it's disgusting, thank you Walter, I just lost my appetite," she pressed her lips together and shook the unpleasant smell from her nostrils. "Walter, what exactly is it you're looking for?"

"This woman was possibly strangled, and yet there are no visible signs of it. Hyoid bone is intact, and there is no organ ischemia. Look, her heart," he pulled it from her chest as it made a sucking sound as he plucked it, causing Astrid to gag; "the tissue is still a pale red, no discoloration from hypoxemia. Same with her lungs, there are no visible signs of damage that would come with a strangulation of any sorts, hands, feet, just a blue line across her neck," he turned, "I once read of someone strangling someone using a fallopian tube of an elephant."

The doors opened as Olivia walked in and stopped in her tracks, unfortunately catching the last part of Walter's sentence. "An elephant's," she paused, and shook her head and threw her hands up. "Forget it, I don't what to know." She bounced down the stairs and removed her coat and placed it on the chair.

Astrid smiled, "Olivia, you look nice today, I can't remember the last time I saw you in a bit of color."

Olivia grinned, "Only clean shirt I had," she leaned towards Astrid, "have we found anything?"

"Walter is still playing jigsaw puzzle with the organs, but, if I speak Walter correctly, it doesn't look like strangulation was the means of death." Peter said while bringing the files he received closer to the two women. "Which also raises the question of who the hell is Veronica Marshall? She's got bank accounts all over the nation. Seattle, Los Angeles, even some little town in Kansas I'm not sure even exists."

Astrid flipped through more papers in her files. "She's been in and out of rehab a lot too, according to this, cocaine use." She looked at Olivia and Peter, "That would certainly explain all the bruises and damage to the veins." Olivia's phone rang, as it always seemed to do when they were making progress. She stepped away, leaving Peter and Astrid to dig through the paperwork even more.

Astrid couldn't help but stare at Peter, there was something on his mind, and she saw it on the look he gave Olivia when she entered. "So, what happened, between you and Olivia? I can see it in the way you looked at her, Pete."

Peter turned to her, "Nothing, we just had a few drinks last night and talked. Nothing happened." Astrid saw right through his little lie, bringing a smile to her face.

"That was Broyles, I need to head back to the office," she announced and hung up the phone, making her way back to Peter and Astrid. "Call me if anything else comes up?"

Astrid nodded. Olivia turned on her heel and headed up the stairs. Astrid made eye contact with Peter, who a second later was running up the stairs after Olivia. The lab assistant smiled to herself and giggled. The thought of Peter and Olivia together had made her quite happy. They fit. Her professionalism, his criminal past made for a great love story, her favorite genre of life.

"Yes, they did," Walter said, reading the expression on her face, a smile on his as well. Astrid glanced at him and chuckled and began to flip through more pagers.

In the hallway, Peter half ran, half walked, eager to catch up with her. "Olivia," he called as she caught up with her and placed a hand on her shoulder as she turned around. "Listen, about last night-"

"My place, nine o'clock." She said abruptly, surprising Peter, a newfound glimmer in her eyes. Without another word she left the building and opened her car door, picked up her phone and drove away, leaving Peter rooted to the ground in both astonishment and confusion. What had just happened, he was unsure of. He wanted to talk to her, wanted to make sure this awkwardness between them could go away again. To make sure she wasn't having second thoughts, regrets, or anything that seems to happen after what seemed to be a one night stand.

"Nine, then," he said and finally turned and entered the building, his mind twisting about what had just happened, and what would be happening later. It was so unlike her, but in exchange it brought a smile to his face. Maybe she finally was turning around. Maybe it really was because of him.

* * *

She drew in a deep breath as the knock came at her door, making Olivia jump slightly. She had been waiting for Peter to come after she left the lab, the conversation she wanted to have running through her head all day. Rachel had talked some sense into her to just tell Peter what was on her mind, to open her heart to him and let him know exactly what made her be, well, her. What Rachel told her wasn't what she expected it hear. Rachel had confidence in her, which ultimately made Olivia nervous.

She gulped down the last few sips of her drink; the stinging, sweet liquid giving her a last minute boost in confidence to get everything off her chest; to give Peter some insight as to what made her tick. Her likes, dislikes, everything little thing that got her excited, happy. Her favorite movie. Actor. Italian cuisine. Book. Which side of the bed she preferred. Temperature of her shower. Why she couldn't bear to part from her shampoo scent, the same one she's used for years. Why she preferred the beach to the snow. She'd mention the whiskey, but she was sure by now he had already known her opinion on that.

With encouragement, and quite possibly a death threat from Rachel for not answering his knock, she stood and walked to the door. Taking in a final breath she opened it to see Peter standing on the other side, a smile on his face.

"Hey there," he said smoothly.

"Hi Peter." She breathed. "We need to talk." As he walked past he caught her green eyes with his, the electric spark between them ignited, making Olivia's hand tremble. Without another word she stepped aside and he entered, moving past her like a breath of wind, taking all words away from her as she mustered all the strength she could find and slowly, quietly, closed the door.


	3. Rescue Me

Thank you to those who have read/commented, they're always appreciated! Ye be warned, mucho P/O fluff to come in this chapter, I couldn't help myself!

Reviews welcome!

**Rescue Me**

Peter stood outside her door in anticipation, his head racing with whatever thoughts Olivia had wanted to get off her chest. Was there a break in the case? Did she not want to work with him anymore because it had become just _that_ awkward? Did she have any regrets about what happened last night? A few drinks in the both of them had lead to an unexpected interaction that had been on Peter's mind all day. He had often thought about him and Olivia spending a night together, if it would be good, bad or mediocre. It was none of that. It was amazing. Her body fit his well, the missing puzzle piece he had been searching for. He knocked on the door, hoping that what they had wasn't ruined.

At first no noise came, no sign anyone was home. Perhaps she left? Maybe she was asleep? Maybe she was with another man. He quickly pushed that scenario out of his head. Olivia wasn't the type of woman to do that, rebound and fall into someone else's arms. At least he hoped she wasn't. The door knob jiggled as it opened revealing her all alone behind it.

"Hi Peter," she said, her hand rested on the wood of the door, using it as a life raft. They were past the need to invite one another in; it was more assumed it would happen. As he entered he caught a drift of her shampoo, a sweet cherry scent that tickled his throat and made his mouth water. He walked into the living room and placed his coat on the rack. Glancing around the kitchen he saw a few case files open as well as a carton of general tsos chicken, fried rice and a glass of whiskey in place.

"Chinese night?" he asked and grinned. Olivia gave no response as she cleaned up the small island, and felt his eyes on her. She must have recently showered; her hair was damp and stringy, her body covered in nothing more than a black bra, a worn tank top and a pair of basketball shorts. Olivia turned and handed him a glass of the sweet amber liquid, another exchange that needed no invitation.

"Sit," she gestured towards the couch. Normally he would have made a crack at a comment like that, but something was different in her voice. It seemed more mysterious, deeper and emotional. Her whole body spoke to him, telling him the words he already knew. Exhaustion took its toll on Olivia to a point where she could collapse. Maybe that was the reason for all the whiskey and caffeine pills. He watched her refill her glass and move towards him. She sat a few feet away, her legs crossed and her elbow resting on the back, supporting her head as she bit her lip and finally spoke her words fit her personality, smokey and rough.

He watched her lips move, trying to find the words to start with. "Peter," she said and swallowed. "Last night," she paused once again, still unaware where to start. _Just tell him what was on your mind_, she told herself. Easier thought than done.

"I realize that I haven't been honest with you, which isn't fair, considering how honest you are with me. I stepped out of my own comfort zone when we," she rolled her head, "you know. We both had different intentions, and that's not what I wanted to happen, not that way in an emotional, drunken misjudgment." _Who are you kidding, Liv, of course you did!_ Her head screamed at the conflict in her heart. "I still stand by what I said to you on the other side, how you belong with me. I just didn't think it would happen this fast."

Peter turned uneasily in his seat and cut her off before she could begin, getting slightly annoyed with her word games. "Why all the regret about last night?" That was the only question he wanted answered from her, the one he couldn't read on her face.

She wiped her lip where a stray drop of whiskey escaped after she drank. "I don't regret it," she whispered, "Maybe just that it didn't happen sooner. I have trust issues, I realize that. Between the incidents with my stepfather to John deceiving even _me_, the woman who he slept with on a seemingly nightly basis then could turn around and betray his country, to betray me," she ran her fingers through her hair, "Then the other Olivia came along and ripped everything else out from underneath my feet and turned everything literally up-side down. My head and my heart have been playing vicious games and my sanity is caught in the middle."

Peter scooted closer to her, this beautiful, strong, shattered woman whose soul had been ripped out and replaced more times than anyone should endure. "Liv, we all hit bumps in the road that skew how we want our lives to run. Whether it'd be the daddy issues we both have had, the deceptions or misconceptions that occur, you can't let it run your life. You're scared, you're broken, and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong. I know you, Olivia. You keep everything bottled up until eventually it explodes and causes everything to come crashing down."

"There's only so much disappointment I can take," she responded and sniffed. "I don't want whatever this is between us to come down to that. I don't think I could survive another blow like that, Peter. " He saw a glassy sheen cover her eyes as she wiped her eyes. "The more I try and resist this, _resist us_, the more I keep falling, crashing faster and harder into you; your personality, your smile, your eyes, your embrace, your kiss. You're everything I've wanted, desired, longed for. I don't want my hopes raised only to drown again, I don't know if I'd be able to survive." Olivia whispered to him, standing as she said it and moved to the bay window, pressing her burning forehead against the cold glass. The forecasted rain had begun to fall, casting shadows on the tears that glossed over in her eyes.

Peter put his glass down joining her by the window. Instead of answering her right away he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the inside of her neck gracefully, a sign that he was there. He had never seen her open up, this vulnerable human being where the slightest emotional tap could shatter her to pieces. For a few minutes he held her close, running his hands up and down her arms and keeping his lips pressed against her neck.

"I'm not sorry for what happened last night," Peter confessed again, his stubble poking affectionately into the crevice of her neck. "It was amazing and exceptionally nice to see you in a different form, to see you being not you; to see you at a point where you're at your guard is down and I know I won't get shot and I can make you _feel_ like the beautiful, elegant, extravagant woman that you are." He kissed her neck again and breathed in her scent.

"We all have skeletons that avoid others for seeing us in the fashion they aren't used to." he whispered into her ear, "You've been walking around for years with the weight of the world on your shoulders, trying to right some imaginary wrong that seems to never get resolved; it carries over from case to case, bringing up a memory that always seems relevant. What John did, taking you, beautiful you, for granted was wrong. Honestly, I'm glad he did though. He couldn't imagine what he was missing. If he didn't I wouldn't have you here with me now, I wouldn't be the man I am today. It's all because of you, that my life got turned on its head."

She nodded against him. "Peter," her voice was low, quiet, and smokey, "You don't want to be with me. I'm not the easiest person to be with. You'll only be disappointed."

He chuckled, a reaction she had not expected. He left a small trace of kisses on her neck making Olivia shutter at his warm and comforting breath. "Livia, if last night was any indication as to how this could be, trust me, I've got nothing to be disappointed with. You're right, though, you're the easiest person to get along with." He breathed and sighed, still not letting her go. His voice matched hers, dark and rough and passionate. "You're intense, serious, professional, everything that I am not. You don't show much emotion other than a small smile that fades as quickly as it came. Sometimes, you're a pain in the ass. You don't let anyone get close without pushing them away first or pissing them off, you don't open up and let us know what you're thinking." He turned her around in his arms, his hand resting on her cheek, cupping it as he caught the fearful tears rolling from her eyes.

Olivia drew in a quivering breath as he continued. "It's all those reasons that make me _want_ to be with you. The ways you can be a bit quirky, a bit wacky, and even eccentric when you want to. It's the way you toss your hair when you're frustrated, or the dimples that flash when you smile, the way your eyes shine when you're happy. The way you make me fight you for an answer to a simple question, or the way you raise an eyebrow that gives you character. It's the little surprises I find in you _every single day_ that make me fascinated by you. You drive me crazy, Olivia Dunham. It's all these reasons that make me love you even more, the mystery of who you are."

He tucked a few strands of hair behind her ears. "Humor me, give us a chance. We can take this at any pace you want, fast, slow, secret, not a secret, doesn't matter, as long as I have your in my life; as long as every now and then I can wake up next to you in bed and watch the morning sun light up your face while you're sleeping. You may be a broken woman, Olivia, but let me help you get pieced back together. Let me be the one to take away your pain, to vanquish whatever demons that haunt you in your sleep, and all your rising fears. You're always on a mission to save the world. Maybe it's time you let someone save you."

Olivia had no response. No words came to mind, and when they did, they got lost in her throat. She bit her lip as she swallowed, holding back the tears that welled in her eyes. It wasn't sadness this time, but bliss. She was drowning in the ocean of her own sorrow, and Peter came and pulled her out of it, keeping her from sinking lower and lower, pulling her back to the warmth of the world.

"You really want this," she asked and he nodded. "I set the pace." He nodded again, a small grin forming at his mouth. "I-I'd like that, Peter," she whispered and a small smile spread across her face. He ran his fingers through her gold hair, tinted blue by the rain soaked windows. He smiled and leaned in, kissing her slowly and affectionately, something he longed for all day. Peter pulled her into a comforting embrace and began to sway back and forth, the rain setting the tempo as she rested her head on his shoulders and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Stay with me tonight, Peter," she muttered into his collar. "Please." Her eyes glanced up over his chin and caught her looking at him, her eyes innocently focused on him.

"I already told Walter I was going to; told him we're working on the case. He's been snoring a lot lately, and trying to find some obscene smelling chemical to make it stop, I swear I wake up in the morning high from whatever concoction he's conducted." Against him she giggled and squeezed him tighter, a weight lifted off her shoulders.

In a single, swift motion Peter swept her off her feet and carried Olivia to her bed. She pulled back the sheets as he placed her against the cotton fabric and kissed her again, feeling her smile beneath his lips. Tonight he knew, was for security. He rolled over her to the other side and pulled the covers up to her neck, tucking them around her body. Peter sat, threw her shirt on the floor and wrapped his arms around here. For a while they lay next to either other, their legs and arms tangled in the other, sharing sweet kisses and blissful words uttered too quiet for comprehension. She placed her head on his chest and soaked him in, absorbing everything that he was.

The clock besides her blinked 11:00pm as Olivia relaxed, satisfied with a small repair in her life that she hoped was beginning of a line of them. Peter was hers once again, and they agreed to start fresh, start new and put everything behind them. For the second night in a long line she couldn't remember, she fell asleep almost immediately and felt the stress leave her tired body as the rain continued to fall, cleansing the night as the hours ticked away.

* * *

Her muscles burned as Olivia rounded the street corner near Parkston Avenue and passed the shops as they opened. Seven o'clock was when Boston began to wake; a sleeping giant brought to life its inhabitants. She had woken up at six with a bundle of energy and smile on her face, her body buzzing with a new found life that lead her to grab her sneakers and go out for an early morning run, a task she had not been able to muster up the ability to do in weeks. The resistant ache of her body pushed her to keep her pace. When she was in the Academy she could do a ten mile run in less than fifteen minutes, complements of her long legs. Now she was averaging about twenty-five to get it done, a goal she set for herself this morning.

Her heart galloped in step with her feet, fighting the cool morning air she inhaled deeply as it sparked a new revelation. She waved to the kids at the bus stop for the elementary school, one who was friends with her niece as they threw snow balls at each other from the small storm that dropped a few inches in the ground. A smile broadened as she made her way over the bridge at the park and made the final stretch for her apartment building where a hot cup of coffee and a shower called her name, bringing about the turn of her morning before she left for work.

She hoped up the one flight of stairs with ease and opened her door. Taking a few minutes to stretch she left her iPod on the counter and headed into her bedroom where Peter still slept, snoring peacefully. Walking into her room, she found the bed empty and heard the shower running. She stripped out of her workout clothes and grabbed her robe, covering her as she knocked and entered.

The steam from the shower fogged the glass as Peter lathered his head with her shampoo; the cherry scent filled the bathroom. "I hope you don't mind, Olivia, I forgot mine at the house."

She grinned as she walked over to the wall and leaned against it. "Are you going to be long?"

Peter opened the door slightly and stuck his head out, eying her seeing just the bath robe she wore; the steam on her cool cheeks reddened them up instantly. "I'll be out in a few minutes," he trailed off and cocked his head curiously, his gaze training down to the V of her robe against her chest. "Your gun on you?"

She raised a curious eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "Now tell me why the hell I would have my gun on me in the bathroom, I'm intrigued."

Peter shrugged, "No reason." He stared at her for a second, and threw the door open, grabbing her arms. She protested, loud hysterics coming from her as he overpowered her and pressed her up against the wall, closing the door. In the flash of an eye her arms were pinned behind her, Peter's weight against her body. "If there's one thing I've learned about you, Agent Dunham, it's that secondary to a wicked shot, you have one hell of a right hook."

The hot water washed over them, soaking her robe through and through. Peter let go of her hands and kissed her, sliding his hands over her shoulders and allowing her robe to fall off her, leaving Olivia in nothing but her beautiful skin. He nibbled at her neck and pressed him and held her, enjoying the feel of her body on his, her cool skin a contradiction to his, made hot from the shower.

"Well lucky for you I don't need to start playing Agent for another hour, so you're off the right hook, so to speak." She connected with his lips again, enjoying the touch he brought to her body, reaching a point where it began to boil. "I thought we agreed to take it slow," she breathed and closed her eyes, moaning gently, Peter's lips taking her body to new heights as his hands explored her wet skin, making soft circles on her neck with his tongue, nibbled at her neck, biting her ear playfully, no borders or clothes to prevent him from discovering what made her react to him. She kissed him hungrily, her lips smiling against his as he picked her up and pressed her against the shower wall, devouring her moist lips.

"Slow doesn't encompass the 'no shower sex' rule," he muttered against her chest, "Sorry I forgot to add that. We can implement that tomorrow morning." He continued to assault her body with his hands and lips, earning sounds from Olivia he didn't think she could make. The steam between them helped fan the flames as they continued to pressure the wall. His fingers danced down her leg, feeling her shake as he brought her knee up beside her and slipped underneath her, most of her weight supported by the wall and his strong legs, granting him full access to every sensation she could not suppress. Olivia drew in a deep breath as she felt him pressing against as she moaned his name once again, mouthing the word against his.

On the counter her phone began to buzz and ring loud enough to pull them out of the trance they entered. Olivia groaned in aggravation. Leave it up to someone to interrupt something important.

"Don't answer it," he begged against her lips as he pressed into her, feeling her body move with his. Once, twice more he moved with her, gliding effortlessly against the shower wall. After two rings to stopped, silenced. _Wrong number_. They continued to move in rhythm with one another, moaning and groaning as the bathroom steamed even more. Her hands clawed at his back as he swallowed and gazed into her electric eyes; happy the damned technology had stopped ruining their blissful moment. He kissed her again and moaned, "I'm so glad that stopped-"

Again, her phone rang, louder this time. One after another the rings came, and didn't stop. Olivia and Peter grunted at the interruption, not even close to finishing. He stopped moving as she rubbed her forehead and rested it on his shoulder.

"Oh for Christ's sake, Peter, I'm sorry," Olivia muttered and slipped away from Peter's arms, "Dunham," she answered as Peter shut off the water, and placed the phone on the counter, speaker phone activated and Broyles spoke. Peter leaned against the wall and groaned, she shushed him.

"_I just got off the phone with Astrid, no leeway on the case yet. Dr. Bishop hasn't found anything yet either I assume. Anyway, I'm sorry to bother you, but I've been informed of another murder just this morning, looks to be the same killer. Any change you can come in a bit early, and give Peter a call? Astrid said she got in touch with Walter. According to the Doctor, Peter wasn't home. Any idea where he may be?" _

Peter came up behind her and grasped her in a hug. "Negative, sir, I'll get in touch with him and meet you at the scene in an hour. Can you text me the address?"

A series of beeps came through the speaker. _"Already done. Drive safe."_ A small click was heard as he hung up.

Peter rested his head on the back of her neck, moving her hair from shoulder. "Talk about a moment ruined, that's _so_ not fair," he muttered and she chuckled, turning around in his arms and ran her fingers through his damp hair.

"The quicker you get out of here so I can shower _properly_, the quicker this day can go and we can pick up where we left off," she rose her brows seductively and had to force Peter out of the bathroom with a towel before she turned the water back on.

Peter dried himself and dressed with the clothes he bought in an overnight bag. Once he was dressed he heard the water shut off. Against his better judgment he left her bedroom and began to explore her kitchen. In it he could tortilla shells, eggs, bacon and cheese. Heating up a few pans he began to whip up a quick breakfast, her favorite. The coffee pot began to heat as he heard the door open. Olivia emerged with a towel and rummaged through her closet, pulling out a pair of black pants, a carnation pink button up top and a blazer to match. The towel dropped as she began to dress revealing her to the naked eye once again. Peter forced his eyes away from the glorious site to avoid burning the bacon as it began to steam.

He couldn't help but smile as he turned again watched her, unable to leave her as she dressed. Olivia was a different person then last night. This morning, she seemed human, seemed, dare he say, normal. There was a bounce in her step and a wave in her hair that he couldn't remember the last time he saw, her eyes cast emerald waves of color across the room as she immerged in her pants and a tan bra, her heels clicked happily against the floor. As he poured their coffee and wrapped breakfast she pulled her op on and attached her gun to her hip, her badge to her belt.

Topping their mugs, Olivia pulled on her blazer and brushed her hair once again, pulling it away from the collar and letting it fall over her shoulders. He handed her a foil wrapped burrito and bit his, licking the melted cheese from his lips.

"You missed some," she said and kissed him as she picked up her mug from behind him. "Shall we?"

Peter rolled his neck. "Onward to whatever gruesome and disgusting thing we'll discover today. After you," he opened the door and they exited, heading down to her car and making their way towards another crime scene, the sun blazing overhead as Olivia flicked on the strobe lights and drove through town, a satisfying smile on her face. She wanted today to flow, to close the case and return home to where, once again, she could find herself wrapped in Peter's arms, pretending that for another night, the world was at peace.

* * *

_Reviews welcome, chapter 4 coming soon! _


	4. Transitions

Thanks for waiting for this chapter, some more fluffy stuff to come! Reviews weclome!

**Transitions**

_Harvard Lab  
10:00am_

"Peter!" Walter exclaimed as Peter entered the lab in a particularly happy mood, a broad smile spreading from cheek to cheek. Walter couldn't help but grin at the young man as he entered. "Is Agent Dunham with you? I have something she needs to take a gander at."

Peter shook his head. "She had a meeting with Broyles this afternoon and a few other cases to look at, but assuming pending the world won't come to a screeching halt; she should be here later on this afternoon." He motioned towards the body Walter was slicing and dicing on his autopsy table, delicately lifting the organs from their resting place. "Have you found anything new?" Peter sipped his coffee.

Walter jumped away from the table and grabbed a paper that printed out from the computer. "Her blood work was quite curious, if I do say so myself," Walter moved back to the table and began removing more of her organs.

Around the corner Astrid entered and greeted Peter hello. She leaned over his shoulder and glanced down at the blood work. "Her white cell count, look at that, it hardly breaks a thousand." She pointed, catching a whiff of the cherry scent coming from Peter's hair. She tried to suppress a grin and bit her lip to prevent from saying anything. She had her suspicious, but that absolutely confirmed it. "And her T-cells, they're just below two-hundred."

Peter raised an eyebrow and turned to the young Agent beside him, her face sharing his speculation. "So she was HIV positive?"

Walter turned, "Not just HIV, she was transitioning to the more deadly form of the virus." He turned her arm over to examine the needle punctures again, searching for more clues.

Peter rubbed his chin in thought. "So a cocaine addict, just out of rehab, we're assuming, and who just developed AIDS was found dead on the street and this is considered a Fringe case? I don't mean to sound insensitive, but the only anomaly is the fact her belly button was missing and that the strangulation we thought was the mechanism of death actually wasn't."

"You are correct, my son," Walter hollered across the lab, his eyes and hands focused at the task before him, continuing his dissection. "When I dissected her neck, her hyoid bone was intact, which doesn't make sense considering the ligature mark around her neck would suggest strangulation. I also confirmed no excess fluid in her head, no signs of increased intracranial pressure, also inconsistent with our initial thought." He appeared around the corner with a jar of Twislers and began to chew on one in thought. "But, here's what I did find," he handed Peter a copy of an x-ray.

His eyebrows came together as Peter held the x-ray up to the light, "She's had a bone marrow transplant?" he asked, his eyes running to the small holes drilled into the pelvic bones of the dead woman.

"She's got no indication of cancer, maybe she was a donor?" Astrid piped up, offering her suggestion. "I can start to look through their databases and see what I can pull up, if you'd like." Peter nodded in thanks and examined the x-ray further.

"Apparently she's had it done several times through, look, some sites are starting to heal," his voice trailed off in thought.

Walter swallowed the mouthful of licorice he bit into. "Precisely. With all those holes drilled into this poor, young woman, her bones should have been brittle, with the loss of marrow, but look," he held up a section of her arm, the hand cut off at the wrist. "Her bones look perfectly healthy. No spider webbing or evidence of bone marrow depletion."

Peter returned to the computer where Astrid sat and typed eagerly at the keyboard. "Have we determined why this guy cut out her stomach?"

Astrid turned to him, "No, there's nothing abnormal about the area, just her belly button is missing, along with a good chunk of tissue." She shook her head and scratched her head. Walter returned to the body and began to cut it apart. She looked up at Peter who continued to read through the woman's blood work. "So?" she raised an eyebrow.

Peter grinned at her and chuckled, turning his eyes back the paperwork, his lifeline to prevent from Astrid seeing Olivia's smiling face in his eyes. "So what?"

She gave him a playful nudge in the ribs and smiled at Peter, "I didn't picture you as a cherry shampoo kind of guy." Peter's gaze snapped towards her as Walter continued to do a second review of the young woman's remains. "I won't tell him, don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

As if saved by the bell, his phone rang with a text message. He said nothing but left Astrid grinning widely as she continued to scan the files of the donation centers around the city. She was happy to see Peter all quiet, not a smart ass comment to return. She was a sucker for tragic romances, the angst and tension was something she had always enjoyed reading. In this case, nothing was better than the real life version of it. Peter and Olivia were absolutely perfect for each other. She and Walter both knew it. Their stubborn ways complemented each other, the way they fought like cats and dogs always sent the other out of the room in anger, her and Walter always found themselves grinning at each other about the aftermath. It was the way he brought out the best of Olivia even when she wasn't there. Astrid could feel her senior field agent's smile half way across the city. Love, she knew, had no limits.

Peter disappeared into the back offices with the files Walter had given him to review. Seconds later she heard the radio turn on low and a soft beat of modern jazz echoed lightly through Peter's walls. Astrid knew who that text was from without even having to ask. His body language said it all. He sat down lazily in the chair and brought his phone up to respond back to another message, a glimmer in his eyes that made Astrid smile even wider. Across the room Walter turned on his own record player as the sweet symphonies echoed through the vast walls of the lab, and Astrid found her foot tapping in rhythm with the trumpets as the sounded heavenly melodies and the sun poured into the room, signifying that finally, after a harsh winter, spring was in the air.

* * *

_Boston Federal Building  
2:30pm_

"Dr. Bishop has had a few new findings arise since yesterday, but nothing earth shattering," Olivia said as she entered Broyles' office with a file in hand, "I've been in touch with Peter sporadically through the day, getting updates on what Walter found. Apparently Veronica Marshall was HIV positive, and just starting the transition to AIDS. Another strange anomaly was that she appeared to have had recent bone marrow donations, Astrid is scanning through the donor records now to see if we can find someone to talk to about that."

Broyles read through the file as Olivia sat down on the opposite side of the desk and continued, "Walter also is still searching for a cause of death. We know that she was a drug user; Walter seems to think that's what caused the trauma to the veins, but I have reason to believe that's not what killed her. The strangulation theory that he also came up with is shot down. Her hyoid bone was intact and no facial edema or anything consistent with strangulation." She closed the folder in defeat and wrapped up her briefing on what they had found, or had not found, so far.

He huffed. "So we still have no clue about her cause of death, or why even her stomach was cut out?" Olivia shook her head, indicating a no. "Anything else on the autopsy or the blood work to be conclusive?" Again, nothing new. He picked up a file and handed it to her. "See if this can give you any indications. This was transferred to me from an agency in California. They had a similar case pop up a few years ago, but due to lack of evidence declared it unsolved. Give it a run through and tell me what you think."

Olivia took the folder and skimmed through it, "I will. Do you think you can get permission for us to run through the rehab areas around here and run Veronica's picture through their databases, see if we can find anyone who may have seen her recently?" Broyles nodded slowly. "Thank you, sir. I'll see if I can find anything to give us an idea."

She stood and turned on her heel. "Dunham," he called, as he always did before the left a room. He stood slowly and walked around the other side of the desk.

"Sir?" she asked curiously.

He grinned and leaned against the chair, resting his palms. "I couldn't help but notice but you seem more upbeat lately," he gave her a small smile, "Whatever it is that's changed, I'm glad to see a smile finally back on your face. You always seem to work better when you're not ready to bite someone's head off."

Olivia squinted at him in awe. "Since when do you make jokes?" she grinned, rather surprised by his comment, but chuckled despite of it. Broyles gave her a hearty laugh. "It's been rough the past few months, but things are starting to turn around. I guess good things come to those who wait." She flashed him another smile and exited, heading down the hall to where her office sat in the corner.

Opening her blinds she peered across the view of the magnificent city she served. A hint of spring was in the air as she took a second to observe the sun's rays dancing across the rooftops of the buildings, a roller coaster ride that took twists and turns as she glanced at the shimmer it sent off. Olivia couldn't remember the last time she felt a full-fledged pride in her job, the feeling that she could do anything was truly something she hadn't felt in a long time. Sure, the crimes they investigated were gruesome, disgusting, and vile, but at the end of the trial when they bagged their man, and she went home safely, that was enough for her. But as always, the enough soon became unfulfillable, and she found herself wanting more. With time, she had it. She went home safely at the end of the day to a man she could not get enough of.

Taking her seat she woke her computer from its artificial sleep and opened the file, but her eyes drifted away from the print to the pictures sprawled across her desk next to the eight ball Ella had given her what seemed like years ago. There was one of her, Rachel and Ella; next to that, Ella's yearbook portrait, and a picture of her and her niece. Another small collage on the wall was copies of the ones she had at home, her favorites. Her favorite picture of her mother and biological father, killed when she was five. He served in the Marines and was killed in action when a bomb went off near his station. She didn't have many memories of him, but what she had retained was beautiful, a time when she felt like she had a normal life, before that bastard of a step-father came into it.

Next to that her eyes drifted off and she felt her heart flutter. Walter had come into the lab one day hell bent on taking pictures to post all over his office in the back, claiming he needed new ones to update it, that the pictures from the seventies were a bit out dated. The ones she liked she made doubles of. Her favorite picture was Peter, Walter and Astrid posing with Gene. For whatever reason she couldn't imagine, it always brought a smile to her face on the darkest of days. The next was the Bishop boys, doing the normal father-son mad scientist gig. The picture next to it always made her heat skip a beat.

"_Agent Dunham, come, take a picture! I need you pinned against my wall!" Walter bellowed as she entered and removed her jacket and stopped dead in her tracks, trying to figure out what direction she should take Walter's comment in. Peter stood next to her and simply shook his head. Walter would say something like that. _

"_My father, ladies and gentlemen, the rendition of everything polite and political in this world." Peter said as he handed her a cup of coffee. "He's decided that the pictures from the seventies and eighties are a little out of date." _

_She sipped it and rose and eyebrow. "I don't know if I should be scared or flattered by that," she said and rolled her eyes. As much as Walter aggravated her sometimes, she could never be mad at him for longer than a day. He always managed to make her laugh. It was a small, quiet show of affection, but it was always there._

"_Peter, Olivia!" Walter said and snapped a picture, just in time as she made a face and closed her eye away from the bright flash. He lowered the Polaroid in distress. "Please, just one nice one and back to work," he pleaded. Olivia rolled her eyes again and gave Walter a nice smile and made her way towards the computer. Laughs echoed through the lab as they broke from the work and took some time to unwind. Walter gallivanted around the lab, taking nonsense pictures with the chemistry set he loved, with Gene, and other countless antics they could find, anything to break the glum mood that settled over the lab. _

_Walter turned and after taking a snapshot of Astrid, held up the camera towards Olivia, his eyes grinned for another one. "Peter, Olivia, I need one of you two. Please?" The bounce in his voice tugged at her heart strings as Peter sat across from her and lowered his head in defeat. _

"_You know he's going to keep asking until you give him one," he said and crossed his arms. "Just one," he winked and gave her that crooked con-man smile that drive her absolutely nuts. _

_She put the pen down, "One, Walter, then that's it." _

"_Hug her, Peter! It'd be adorable to tell the grandkids!" Walter bellowed happily and danced in place, the wrinkles curling around his mouth as he spoke. _

"_And if this wasn't awkward enough," Peter mumbled as he moved around the desk and hesitantly draped his arm around Olivia's shoulders. He was rather surprised when she turned into him and laced her fingers with his and wrapped her other arm around his back and squeezed him into her side. _

_Olivia grinned up at him. "If it gets him back to work, I think we can suffer through just one." The camera flashed as Walter kept it poised, waiting for the moment to strike. Peter looked down at her with a smile that matched hers just as Walter snapped the picture and danced away happily, finally having his shot. _

_A few minutes later Peter came over and showed her their picture. She took it from his gently and examined it. She pressed her lips together and made a face to it, disapproving slightly. "At least you look good," Olivia commented and took the other picture from his hand, the one with the side profile of them. "I looked better from the side," she said and took the other picture, examining it. _

"_Any side of you looks good, Olivia," Peter said and placed a hand around her shoulders and grinned at her. She scrunched her eyebrows together, trying to decipher the look in his eyes, those ocean deep blue eyes that she often found herself getting lost in. So did he always look at her, then?_

_Across the room Walter called, breaking them from the trance and Peter moved, leaving her suddenly aware of the empty space he left. She turned back to the desk and continued to scribble, her eyes darting up and stealing glances of Peter. She bit her lip and secretly smiled, and rubbed the spot on her arm where his hand sat moments ago, as if she was holding his hand once again._

The picture she kept was the one where they both looked at the camera, Walter was insistent on keeping their side profile. As she continued to read through the files, another thought came to mind: Broyles' comment to her. Did he suspect her and Peter were together? Did he know? Did Walter or Astrid suspect it? _No_. She told herself. They would certainly say something, wouldn't they? That they were happy Olivia and Peter finally hit it off? She knew one person that would. She stood and closed her door while grabbing her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Rachel's number.

"_How did it go!" _Was the first thing Rachel said, excited to finally see Olivia's number pop up on her caller ID. Not even a hello or how are you. Always right to the point.

She sat in her chair and curled into the cushion back. "It was a bit awkward," she confessed, "But I gave it to him straight, just like we talked about. Needless to say almost everything's out on the table," she could hear Rachel smile through the receiver. Olivia bit her lip and rolled her head, stretching her neck, "So I guess you could say we're a couple." The words sounded strange to her, but brought back the butterflies that she thought had been rooted. "He stayed the night, but nothing happened," she added quickly, knowing Rachel's prying desire to find anything to tease her sister about.

She heard Rachel jump up and down excitedly, _"Liv, I'm so happy for you, you deserve it! Give Pete a hug for me; I'm so glad you finally got the boot out of your ass. Oh! While I have you on the phone, Ella didn't wake you up this morning when she called you, did she?"_ On the other end she heard her niece's voice jump into the receiver as Rachel shushed her. _"She wanted to ask you something but I told her that calling you at seven thirty in the morning wasn't nice. Told you may have been a little…"_ she could see Rachel smirking in her head, putting two and two together with the new information she received, _"Busy."_

Olivia laughed. Wait until Peter heard who almost interrupted their shower before Broyles did. "At least it wasn't six seventeen this time through. Put her on, I can hear her in the background."

"_Aunt Liv!"_ Ella's voice danced across her ears, _"Hi Aunt Liv! I'm sorry for calling you this morning, but I had something _very_ important to ask you!" _

Olivia laughed again as Ella's enchanting voice echoed in her office. Even without speaker phone she was loud and clear. She stood and grabbed the folders on her desk, deciding to get out of the office and finally make her way to the lab to see if he could decipher any clues from the case Broyles handed her. She waved to the receptionist and exited the building all the while listening to Ella speak, a soft tone Olivia could never get enough of.

* * *

_Harvard Lab  
3:15pm_

She walked down the hallway with a particular bounce in her step as she entered the building and walked down the flight of stairs to where the Bishops and Astrid conducted their weird science experiments. Olivia couldn't erase the smile from her lips as she opened the door and found the lab empty. She guessed Walter and Astrid were out for lunch or supplies, as they normally did on Fridays. In the back she could see Peter's silhouette form his office, hunched over the viewing tube of a microscope. She tried to not run to his corner office and tried to calm her excitement of seeing him. The clock ran past three in the afternoon and she hadn't seen him all day. She wouldn't run in, no, but would casually stroll in, flip her hair and bat her eyes, giving Peter a flirtatious hello.

As she approached the door she heard a soft beat of a piano, drums and guitar coming from the little radio he put in. Working in silence was not one of Peter's strong points. Her suspicious was confirmed as she tip toed up to the door to observe Peter sitting in a chair singing quietly to himself, as he bounced his head back and forth with the music, his eyes focused into the microscope. He stood and headed towards the filing cabinet to grab a new set of note pads. Olivia couldn't help but laugh and lean against the door job, making Peter jump in surprise and turn on a dime to find her behind him, her hands suppressing a laugh as she raised them to her cheeks.

"Jesus, Liv, you scared me half to death," he said and clutched his chest while walking toward her, taking the files from her arm and resting then on the table. They had had enough time in her arms, he decided, it was his turn.

Olivia giggled. "Well if it wasn't me, that cause would definitely be your singing," she teased as he leaned in and kissed her hello: one quick peck followed by a longer, more drawn out kiss as he savored the taste of her lips; it had been hours since he saw her. He didn't let go of her lips as he placed one hand at the small of her back and pulled her other hand to shoulder height, pulling her into him as he began to bounce to the beat of the music, their hips rocking back and forth in unison.

He released her lips finally, "I've been waiting for that all day, Livia," his voice dipped as he placed his forehead against her, still moving to the mellow jazz tune that played through his office. Her response was nothing more than to kiss him again, a wordless confirmation that she had waited for the same thing as well. He felt her smile against his lips as he ran his tongue teasingly across her bottom lip.

"The first interrupting phone call this morning while we were in the shower was from Ella, I found that out today when I got off the phone with Rachel." she said softly as the song changed and laughed at the face Peter made, both of amazement and a slight anxiety, but as always he grinned.

"Probably a good idea you didn't pick up, then. Try explaining _that_ to your niece," Peter grinned and pressed his lips against hers once again, making up for lost time. "You know," he moved his lips down her jaw to the crook of her neck, just above her collar, as she wrapped her arms around him tighter, "the first part of that was amazing, I'd be interested to see how it ends." His breath tickled her skin, his hands moving lower down her back, resting just below her belt.

She groaned as reality hit and she remembered why she had come here in the first place, "Well if we're going to pick up where we left off, perhaps we should get some work done," she muttered into his cheek, his mouth dancing circles around her jaw, teasing her. Even she had trouble convincing herself that was what needed to be done.

"Do we have to?"Peter mumbled, his teeth grazing her skin as he found her lips once again. The answer came as the lab doors opened loudly and Walter was heard stumbling through with Astrid in tow. He bellowed Peter's name as his heels tapped down the stairs and the bags fell to the floor. "I guess there's my answer," he huffed and released her form his grasp. Picking up the files she placed her hand on his chin, rubbing her thumb over the corner of his mouth, kissing him once again and gazed into his oceanic eyes.

"My place, ten PM. You bring dinner, I'll supply everything else." She winked at him and exited the office and called Astrid's name, gaining the attention of her assistant and began bringing her up to date on the new information she received and going over the research Astrid had brought to the table. She grabbed a stool and sat next to Astrid, removing her suit jacket and placing it carelessly on the table behind her. A few feet away Walter began to unpack the supplies he bought, tearing open the bag of licorice and began to chow down as he interjected into their conversation, bringing Olivia over to the body and showed her his findings, and the recent x-ray taken.

Peter moved towards the door frame and leaned against it as she did minutes ago, saying nothing and simply observing the scene in front of him. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to keep the remaining heat of her body against him as it disappeared. He could watch her work for hours and be fascinated each time. He could see her mind turning as she listened and talked with Walter, Astrid bringing up relevant points to support Walter's theories, and Walter going off on another tangent about elephants and UFOs, which Peter was sure had no correlation with the case.

Everything about her was different. Her body language was more relaxed, less fierce, even the way she stood with her hands on her hips was different. She swayed more evenly, her shoulders dropped, covered by the golden curtain of hair. He noticed that too, the strict ponytail she normally wore had begun to slowly disappear, and the Olivia Dunham he first met was beginning to shine again, a smile always dancing across her face and her eyes glowing emerald with bright emotion. Her skin was softer, her hands looser, her lips plump and luscious, just like he remembered all those years ago. She moved in a different fashion, her feet bouncing off the floor; gravity didn't hold her down anymore. Her body moved like the woman she was, accenting every curve in the sunlight. She wasn't as dark and broken as she was a few months ago, no, she was changing, a beautiful butterfly finally immerging from her emotion cocoon she had found so much safety in.

"Peter!" Walter called, jolting him out of his reverie, his eyes glued to her waistline. "Come down here with those slides, I think I found something!" Peter turned, gathered what slide he had and made his way to where Walter's microscope was set up and waiting. Walter eagerly slid the glass into it and observed. He began to talk, but Peter's hearing had checked out. His eyes couldn't separate from the sun's glow around Olivia as she read through the blood work once again; a golden ray of light illuminated her.

She turned to him, feeling his eyes on her. Olivia grinned at him, her eyes motioning to where Walter kept rambling, silently telling him to stop staring and pay attention.

Peter's mouth curled into a small smile, "I'm sorry Walter, say that again, I must have missed something." Walter gave his son a playful slap on the cheek, muttered something about how Peter needs to get more sleep at night or try caffeine pills and repeated himself. No matter how hard he tried, his mind wondered to the angelic beauty that stood less than twenty feet away from him, her heart beat echoed in his ears.

Maybe she was changing because of him after all. Maybe that's all she needed was time…


	5. Stolen Angels

**Stolen Angels**

_Location: Unknown  
4:00am_

Opening her eyes slowly, a task that sent shock waves of pain through her body, she came face to face with an absolute, never ending darkness. The cuts he made her in her skin stung as the felt the heaviness of the air descend on her skin, covered only by a tattered blanket, once pure and white now stained red and brown with the blood of his other victims. The next thing she felt was the harsh leather restraints ripping into her skin, threatening to tear everything down to the bone. A sole _beep_ came from the heart monitor above her head. Once the fogginess of her head cleared she jumped into panic mode, her heart rate jumping. In the corner a man stood; the white of his eyes visible around a blackened pupil eerily glowed as he did nothing but watch her and turn his lips into a wicked smile.

He always liked it when they fought back.

The atmosphere around her bruised and battered body was electric with terror, her heart beat thundered in her ears, tears cascading like rain in the storm of emotions that took over her body. Pain. Fear. Exposure. Insanity. In a desperate attempt to try and escape her leather strongholds she used all of her strength to pull them from the ties on the bed, but to no avail. The towel he forced down her jaw strained her muscles as she clenched down, her face writhing, pleading to be let go.

His footsteps echoed closer to her as he walked, shoulders hunched, hands behind his back, eyes focused on her exposed body before him. "Don't fight it," his voice was dark as he spoke, velvet smooth as he placed a single, ice cold hand on her forehead, smoothing out the matted hair that stuck to her skin in a batter of blood and dirt. "You have been a good subject, my dear," he picked up a syringe, flicked the needle and injected it into the crook of her arm. Her body arched at the continuous assault on her veins, screaming as they punctured again. "Sadly, our journey has come to an end. You have one final step before you can transcend, you must make a sacrifice."

Her small body went limp as the sedatives took their effect, numbing except for her chest and her head. He liked it when he could see the fear in their eyes as he mounted himself above them, his arousal claiming what was his, the sacrifice to ascend to where they were going to go after this. She cried as he slipped in and out of her, the pain all too much for her small frame to handle, her body raw as he stripped her of every ounce of dignity she had left, his hands raking over her body, her breasts, her legs, everything that he claimed to be his. He kept her head straight, her eyes trained on his as he took what he believed to be his.

Minutes later he was finished and withdrew. Taking a cold washcloth he began to clean her of whatever demons he left behind. Her head began to swim as the second drug cocktail he administered began to take effect, slowing her heart rate and lowering her pressure, sending her head back into a fog and eventually, back to blackness. Her rate slowed even more until the monitor flat lined, her lips turning blue, her eyes sinking. He silenced the monitor and felt her neck, pressing two fingers lightly into them, feeling no rebound in return. Dead.

"For your sins, you shall be rewarded," he whispered into her ear and patted her stomach. Securing her once again he watched as her abdomen twitched slightly, a small rise of skin began to come out of her lower abdomen, and rose slowly out of her belly button until it reached about a foot in length, a cord of skin that he handled gently, as if its fragility would break it with one small micrometer of movement. Grabbing a scalpel he began to make small, delicate slices in a square around his prize and cut her down to the bone.

He lifted his specimen out of her as the blood began to slow, becoming thicker and heavier as her body began to relax, her muscles giving way to the deadly paralytic that claimed yet another victim of his. Placing it into a tray he sliced a small cross section of the skin cord and placed it under a microscope, smiling in approval. He placed it on a shelf just to his right where his collection had slowly began to take shape. Three already he had collected, with more on the way. After years of not understanding why it wouldn't work, he finally had an answer, and a method of collection that was much more enjoyable.

Turning to a computer he began to click and type away furiously, searching for his next victim, his dark eyes illuminated by the light. Finally he had her, a young woman just outside Boston, where he picked up his latest victim. Powering off the machine he began to clean up, cleansing the dead woman's body and purging her from any evidence of him he left behind to claim this murder.

Before packing her up in the body bag he took a longer syringe and injected it into the space between her index and middle fingers, taking a microscopic sample of her tissue and pocketing the precious sample. Dragging her out to his truck he hauled her into the back of the pickup and drove into the city, dropping her off on an empty, frost covered soccer field, hidden from the rest of the world by a forest.

She wouldn't be found for hours.

* * *

_Stevens Elementary School  
1:00pm_

Her eyes darted back and forth anxiously between the door and the clock. Clock. Door. Door. Clock. She tapped her desk patiently as the noise in the room began to escalate and more parents walked into the room, their kids running up to them with smiles on their faces and open embraces. She had given plenty of notice, and had truly hoped she could get off work to come see her, and hear her project. Their project of the month was about their heroes, and what made them special. For Ella Dunham, there were only two people in her life that fit into that category. Her mother was her protector, but her Aunt was her hero, for numerous reasons she would announce later. She told two weeks ago, and as always, her Aunt gave her a promise to try and come through.

Ella grabbed her essay from her notebook and began to read it over again, hoping to not stumble over any of the word she had written. She wanted it to be perfect. She wanted her Aunt Liv to understand why she adored her so much, why she looked to her for almost everything that she knew her mother couldn't handle. Ella knew her aunt was a cop, someone working for the government to put a stop to the bad guys. What she didn't know was the extent as to her aunt's work, and through this project she hoped to learn more.

"Alright folks, please, settle down, parents, take your seats we're about to begin!" her teacher called above the noise. Ella looked at the door again and sighed, her shoulders falling. She had worn the outfit Olivia bought her for Christmas, a pair of jeans and a green shirt, with a matching pair of green Converse sneakers; it was her aunt's favorite color. "I assume everyone's here, let's begin!"

Her classmate stood and began to read his essay about his brother and his accomplishments, his bother and mother's face grinning with excitement and pride as he spoke, his word beaming with admiration. One after the other her peers stood earned claps for their essays and hugs from their parents. That was what any eight year old dreamed of, after all; seeing the pride and joy coming from their parents' face at an accomplishment and the love. Ella buried her face in her hands, fighting back a small tear that began to well in her eyes.

"Is this Mrs. Benson's class?" came a soft voice by the door as a soft-spoken girl read her speech. Ella's head jerked up, her glum mood flying out of her system and she watched with joy as Olivia nodded to her teacher and squeezed into the small spot between the teacher and the whiteboard, trying to not interrupt the student who read. Butterflies erupted from her stomach and a wide smile fell across Ella's face at the small kiss Olivia blew to her. When it was her turn Ella grabbed her paper and jumped up, running happily to where Olivia stood and hopped into her arms, kissing Olivia on the cheek.

"You made it!" she exclaimed happily as she hung from Olivia's neck.

Olivia smiled. "I'm sorry I was late, sweetie, I couldn't escape when I wanted to, work's been a bit crazy," she kissed Ella's cheek again, "I can't wait to hear what you've been working on." Ella's smile beamed as she fell out of Olivia's arms and took her spot in the front of the room, while Olivia sat beside some of the other parents at her table, removing her jacket. She crossed her arms and let a finger rest gently on the handle of her gun.

"_My Hero_," she began happily, earning a flashing smile from Olivia, "By Ella Danielle Dunham." She cleared her throat.

"My hero has two faces to her. One face is my aunt, Olivia Dunham, my only and favorite aunt who I admire as much as my mother. She's beautiful, caring and brave, and always smiling when I see her. Aunt Liv is my partner in crime, and my best friend along with my mother. She has a warm smile and a great hug, one of those that you don't want to ever end and when they do, you don't want to let go. Her house always smells of cotton and cherries, and it tickles my nose when I go to see her. She's a great cook, her pancakes are my favorite. When Mom goes out of town, and I hear that Aunt Liv is watching me, I can't wait to get in the car and see her, because she's so much fun to be with."

Olivia's phone buzzed silently in her pocket as Broyles' name blinked across the screen. She hit a key to silence it and turned her attention back to her niece as she continued to read. She sent him a quick message back, that she'd call him back in twenty minutes. Nothing could take her away from Ella for this one hour; she had promised her niece she would be here come hell or high water, or whatever bodies happened to crawl in her direction. They could wait; the world wouldn't implode if she was late getting off her non-existent lunch break.

"I always feel safe with my Aunt, wherever I go, because of the strong and brave person she is. She isn't scared of anything. She is constantly making sacrifices for everyone else. I don't get to see her as often as I would like, even though she lives fifteen minutes from our apartment. This is because of the other face she also has, her job. She has an important job as a federal Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation," Olivia chuckled as Ella pronounced each word carefully, accenting the syllables with innocence, "also known as the FBI."

Olivia's phone buzzed again with urgency, but she silenced it again, mesmerized by Ella's speech.

"I don't know much of what she does, mostly because it is a secret, but I do know she works to help people who can't help themselves when they are hurt or get lost, and save people. I'm always sad when we need to cancel our plans because she gets called into work, but the fact she is going because someone needs her more than me is something I am proud of her for. I'll always have her in my life, and if for a week or a month I don't see her, I know it is because someone else needs her too. I love my Aunt more than the world itself, and someday want to be just like her; kind, caring, brave, not afraid of anything. She is my hero, and my protector, keeping the world safe while we sleep, from the things that go bump in the night." She paused and looked at Olivia, who was smiling widely. "The end." She concluded and the room clapped for her as Ella walked over to Olivia and snuggled herself into Olivia's chest. "I'm glad you could come, Aunt Liv. I worked really hard on this, it took me _forever_ to get right, and I hope you liked it."

Olivia placed a small, stray strand of hair behind Ella's ear. "It was perfect, baby girl. What would you say to me making a copy and putting it in my office?" Ella smiled and hugged her again, feeling Olivia's phone vibrate once again. Ella picked it up from Olivia's pocket and looked at the caller ID, a picture of Astrid flashed. Again, Olivia hit ignore, almost regretting it afterward, and pulled Ella into an embrace as the next child began to speak, resting her chin on the girl's shoulder.

A knock came at the door as Peter stuck his head inside, "I'm so sorry to interrupt," he looked towards Olivia, "Agent Dunham, I need to speak with you immediately."

She stared at him, almost pleading but knew she couldn't escape it. "Sweetheart, I need to leave, I'm sorry," she whispered into Ella's ear. "You were absolutely perfect, I couldn't be prouder. I'll call you tonight." She kissed Ella's cheek and stood, apologizing to the crowd and exited the classroom, giving Peter a stern look, her voice aggravated by the interruption. "What was so important it couldn't wait another fifteen minutes?"

Peter huffed, his skin crawled. He knew that tone of her voice, annoyance and impatience set the pace for the cadence to her voice. "I'm sorry, Liv, but Broyles wouldn't get off my back. I'm guessing after you ignored his phone call a second time, that's when he called me. It was either have him come drag you out or I did it. Either way I know I'm getting an ass kicking later. But," he said as they exited the building and back into the sunlight, "Another body was dumped not long ago, looks to be the same guy."

"Where?" Olivia asked, her eyes refusing to look at his. As soon as they rounded the corner her answer was given. In the middle of the school's soccer field she saw Broyles standing, waiting for her and the crime scene being roped off. She sighed, defeated and ran her fingers through her hair. "This psycho was here," she turned and looked at the school; an eerie feeling crept up her spine as she peered into the windows, catching the classroom where Ella was. "That's not terribly comforting."

Peter nodded in agreement, "I know. The school is running through their security cameras now." The dry grass crunched underneath their feet as they walked closer to where Broyles stood with Walter at his side, both of their heads bowed. Something was different about this one, Olivia could feel it. "Liv, there's something else. This one is… difficult." Peter paused, judging her reaction.

"Difficult how?" She asked as they came up the scene and her eyes fell upon the body of the young girl. She couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen at least. The air was thick with silence as they observed the scene; her body was broken, bloody, with a portion of her abdomen missing. Her eyes stared up at the sky aimlessly, filled with fear and demise. Bruises lined her lower body, an obvious and terror filled trauma that brought a blackened cloud over their case once again. Peter felt Olivia shake beneath his hand that rested on her shoulder as she swallowed and turned her head away from the site, wishing she hadn't seen it, that it wasn't real.

Walter knelt slowly beside the young girl and grabbed a blanket that sat near the dead girl's exposed body, and gently closed her eyes, saying a quiet prayer for her and squeezed her cold hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came past his tongue. There were no words that could describe it. She was a child, who was taken, beaten, abused and raped, and left exposed on a soccer field like a piece of art. She was alone, cold. Afraid. Walter rocked back and sat on his heels, taking in the scene for a moment as a quiet tear rolled down his wrinkled cheek. Walter's eyes turned to where Olivia stood, frozen in time and stared at the girl's face, her structure all too familiar to someone she loved. Brown eyes. Brown hair. Small lips. Small hands. A carefully crafted nose. Gentle eyes.

Olivia felt her stomach turned violently as she turned and made her way quickly for the tree line, saying nothing as she picked her pace up from a steady walk to a full on run, hoping to suppress her stomach contents until she was out of site. She threw off her jacket and dived for the tall grass, vomiting several times as her stomach heaved breakfast and quivered, her entire body shaking. She felt a hand on her back and turned to see Peter behind her, the same shock and fear that rested in her eyes reflected in his. She rolled back and sat on the ground, her head swimming and she dropped it into her lap and tried to make the image go away.

Peter held her close, his arms wrapped around her tightly; her head nestled in the crook of his neck. "I don't need to tell you this, but I'm going to say it anyway. Kids are always the hardest to deal with, and if anyone can find this son of a bitch, it's you."

She shook her head against his chest, trying to erase the image from her head. "That's not it, Peter," she said quietly and looked into his eyes. "Did you see how much she looked like Ella?" He nodded, not the route he wanted to start off with.

"I saw it too, yes," he whispered. "But Ella's safe, we know what, Hell, you just saw her. She's perfectly safe, Liv." He planted a small kiss on her forehead and felt her nod her head in agreement. Ella was safe and sound. She knew this. Yet the image wouldn't leave her mind. "It's just a coincidence. That's all it is." Olivia nodded again and swallowed, wishing she had a mint. Taking a deep breath she gathered herself and stood, picking up her coat and nodded at him. Peter pulled her into a small hug and rubbed her shoulder reassuringly, before she left his arms and made her way back to the crime scene.

"You okay?" Broyles asked as she returned, gathering her composure as Peter and Walter began to work. "I can't remember the last time I saw you get sick over a case." He reached into his pocket and offered her a stick of gum, which she gratefully accepted. She'd take anything to get that sour taste out of her mouth.

"Yeah. She just… looks a lot like my niece. It was an unexpected shock," Olivia said and glanced down at the girl, placing her hands on her hips. "Do we have any information on her yet, any missing persons that match her description?"

Broyles shook his head, giving her a no. "Local PD is looking into that now. Looks like to be the same guy we've been trying to track down from the last murder, and the case from California. Same injuries, same removal of the umbilicus." He fell silent. "It's disgusting to think someone could do this to a poor, defenseless child. Whatever resources you need, Dunham. You know the drill."

She nodded. "I know. I'll keep you updated as we go along. I'll have the body moved back to Walter's lab once they're done here, maybe we can find something else to give us a clue." She sighed. "I don't have a good feeling on this one, I'll be honest."

"When it comes to children, there is never a good feeling," he responded. "Call me if you find anything." Olivia nodded, giving him a silent agreement. Broyles turned and left, his head hanging low. Murdered kids never settled well on the heart, he didn't care how strong someone was.

Two hours ticked away as they collected evidence, cataloged it and began to ship everyone out. Some would go back to the FBI. Some would go to the lab. An ambulance arrived shortly afterward and they began to load the body up, with Walter riding in the back as he always requested. A bell echoed in the distance, signaling it was three o'clock. Her ears caught sound of the rushing of feet as the doors opened and the school emptied, eyes all turning to where the crime has occurred. Some of the people that exited she recognized as the parents in Ella's class, some of which stuck around to the end of the day.

Before she knew what she was doing she was standing next to the doors as she was barraged with questions about the crime scene tape, giving the normal FBI answer and waited for Ella. She came running out of the building, excited to see her Aunt again. Slowly Olivia bent down as Ella came into her arms. She held the girl's small body tightly, happy to see Ella safe and sound.

"Aunt Liv, what are you still doing here?" Ella asked. Olivia gave no answer, just ran her thumb over Ella's cheek bone and pulled her into another deep hug, cradling her head in her hand and swallowed hard, and felt her niece close her arms around her upper body, embracing Olivia in a safe circle. "Is everything okay, Aunt Liv? You're scaring me a little," she muttered into Olivia's shoulder. Olivia released her from her arms and offered Ella a small smile. The first thing Ella noticed was the small bead of tears running from her eyes, staining the skin on her face. "You're crying." Ella said and wiped Olivia's cheeks dry.

"I'm just always happy to see you, baby girl," Olivia whispered and sniffed while cupped her small cheek in her palm. She gave Ella a bright smile. "Tell your mom to set three plates tonight, I'll bring dessert." Ella jumped up and down and hugged Olivia again, kissing her on the cheek.

"I will," she said and released Olivia's hand, running towards the bus, waving. "I love you, Aunt Liv!" she blew Olivia a kiss, who happily returned it.

Olivia watched the buses roll away in silence and dipped her chin to her chest, hugging herself. She had never been that spooked in her life. The dead girl truly did look like Ella, a few years older, but a close resemblance nonetheless. They had the same facial setup, the same eyes, bone structure, hair line, it was uncanny. She knew it wasn't Ella. But something in her mind flipped and gave her a mini panic attack. Watching her niece ride away safely calmed her nerves down, seeing Ella's smiling face always did that.

Another set of arms wrapped around her, the embrace all too familiar. Peter nuzzled his forehead in her neck, both of them shielded by the walls of the school from any prying eyes. "Better?" he asked, referencing to her seeing Ella leave the school safely. Olivia turned around in his arms, burying her forehead into his chest again, taking a deep, steady breath. Her hands gripped his coat tightly as she breathed again.

"Just a little spooked, but I'm okay," she nodded a few times, and glanced back into Peter's comfortable eyes. "I'm fine." She flashed him a small, reassuring smile, her nerves calmed as squeezed his hand. She went to move out of his arms, but Peter caught her wait with one arm, turning her back to him, glancing into her eyes again. He leaned down and gave her a small kiss, and smiled.

"I know you are I just wanted to make sure." He said and began to walk back with her to the scene where things were beginning to wrap up.

Down the street, tucked away in the shadows of the woods a man stood frozen, observing. His eyes watching the scene unfold before him, and a small devilish smile spread across his face. He was even closer than he thought to complete his mission. Slowly he raised a picture to meet his gaze, the small Polaroid developed quickly, revealing a picture of his latest victim, and the scene that occurred around her murder. Satisfied with his work he turned and walked into the middle of the forest and disappeared.

* * *

_Leave me some love; hit that little 'review' button! Let me know what you think! _


	6. Dangerous Words

Thanks for the reviews so far, gang! You guys are awesome!

Oh, by the way… SMUT WARNING! =D Only cause I'm going through withdrawals and cannot wait for Friday's episode! That and I figured they were waaay overdue…

Reviews welcome!

**Dangerous Words  
**

_Harvard Lab  
Monday, 2:45pm_

"There's a strange paralytic in her blood work, I've never seen anything like it," Walter's fingers tapped lightly against his chin, his eyes tracing the lines of the loops and bends of the illusive chemical compound he gave life to on the chalk board, a two-dimensional representation of the substance found in their latest victim's veins. His fingers danced over the bonds, his mind twisting with curiosity as he tried to unravel the new, mysterious formula. "It appears to be a mixture of several drugs," he pointed, gaining Peter and Astrid's attention. "Xanax, cocaine, and an anesthesia, possibly a general anesthetic or a type of pain medication. Astrid, can you pull a preserved sample of the first and second victim? Compare it to any similarities to this one, please."

Astrid stood, "On it," she said as she saved the current file she had opened. "It's going to take an hour or two to unfreeze and mix everything, but I'll see what I can do to speed everything up." Walter give her a silent acknowledgement, his focus remained on the alluding compound. She turned her attention to where Peter sat quietly at the table, his hands and head both distracted as he continued to peer into the microscope, his face blank. She glanced at the clock as it approached three o'clock, and caught sight of Peter's phone barely a finger length away from him. She grinned.

"How was Olivia's weekend with Rachel and Ella?" she asked him, her fingers dancing delicately over the files that she read through. "She was there for what, three, for days?"

Peter sat frozen, his eyes darting back and forth across the microscope, the only thing moving was his lips. "She stayed from Thursday to presumably today, I haven't heard from her since Friday night." Astrid picked up the small jump in his voice and she tried to suppress a grin. The ping of a slight jealousy was evident in the way he spoke, Olivia spending the weekend with her sister and niece and not with Peter. Astrid knew of their secret plans for a weekend getaway; Olivia called her Thursday evening and informed her, accidentally slipping out she was suppose to go someplace with Peter.

"That'd odd," Walter mumbled as he bit into a licorice stick, chewing absently, and drew attention from Astrid as she walked over to investigate. He had revisited the body for another examination. There were no links found between the three victims, and he didn't think there would be one coming soon. He began to poke around the large abdominal incision that was made, similar to that of the other two victims, and paused, examining the bowels that rested just above the hip bone.

"What's odd, Walter?" Astrid asked and checked on the blood samples they were unfreezing.

He leaned down, taking a large bite of his candy again, and with the other hand picked away the layers of dead muscle to expose the tissue beneath it. "There appears to be an incision made here," he grabbed a scalpel and cut the remainder away, revealing the lower section of the girl's small intestine. Looking closer, he began to hum to himself.

"Care to tell us what you're thinking, or are we going to be left in the dark?" Peter grumbled as Walter stared at the section of tissue, his mind cranking away furiously. Peter still sat at the microscope, glancing at his phone and waited for a phone call, a text message, anything. Seeing the screen remain quiet he stood. "What'd you find, Walter?" he sighed.

Walter said nothing as he made a cut down the middle of the skin and opened it, his wrinkled face scrunched. "Look here," he spoke and removed a small glob of what looked like clear grape jelly and cut a section of the bowels out. Holding it up to the light two small pale red tubes extended from it, as well as a slightly larger one that was tinged blue. "What does that look like to you, son?"

Slipping on a pair of gloves Peter took the tissue sample from Walter and turned it over in his fingers, testing the elasticity and texture of whatever it was Walter had found. "They look like arteries," he commented, pointing to the two smaller tubules. "The other one a vein?" he rose an eyebrow. Walter nodded in agreement.

"My thoughts precisely, Peter. Something was connected here, possibly another kind of tissue that our killer used to feed blood to. The abdomen is heavily vascularized and if he was trying to preserve a piece of tissue, that's a prime area to use." Walter said and took more sections of the bowel for examination, as well as the gelatin-like substance that came with his discovery. "Peter, have you heard from Olivia?" Walter echoed Astrid before, who grinned at Walter's question.

"No," he sighed. "I haven't since Friday morning. Why?"

Walter shrugged; a flash of a smile crossed his cheeks, "Just curious, that's all. You've been on the phone with her almost every night for the last week, and yet the last few nights nothing."

"We were discussing the case, Walter," Peter said quickly, defensively and slightly annoyed at the fact that Walter was eavesdropping on his conversation, "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't listen to my phone calls. She went to spend the weekend with Rachel and Ella." Astrid bit her lip and turned her eyes back to the computer. Not only jealous, perhaps a little aggravation as well. She pressed her lips together to not expose her smile. Only one person could drive Peter that crazy, other than Walter. They really were meant for each other.

Next to Astrid, the phone began to ring as she grinned at Peter, the caller ID flashed Broyles' name across the screen. Picking it up Astrid answered and began to fill him on what discoveries they had made, finally making some form of progress. She began to type something into the computer, continuing their conversation. Peter glanced over his shoulder and brought his eyes back to the microscope, the bright light a welcomed distraction.

"Right, yes sir, I'll tell him, thanks." She hung up. "Peter that was Broyles, asking if we had any updates, and to inform Olivia of what we've found, she'll be at the Federal building around five." Peter said nothing and gave her a slow thumb up, his eyes not moving from the white light. Astrid huffed and returned to the computer and typed, with Walter rambling on about paper airplanes and ants and Peter being Peter. She could tell he wanted to get up and see her, but for some unseen reason he sat rooted, his hand only an inch from his phone, waiting, and probably wanting to get any time of communication from Olivia, but to his dismay nothing came.

His shoulders dropped as he ran his fingers through his hair. A second later he stood silently and collected his notes and everything from the case, muttering something to Astrid about taking Walter home and left, the door closing quietly behind him.

* * *

_Boston Federal Building  
11:35pm_

Her desk was littered with papers, files and photographs of the latest three victims from their killer's murdering spree, and the only light illuminating them came from a small desk lamp that painted the dark space around her a faded auburn, making Olivia's eyes heavy with sleep and frustration. They were missing something. They _had to be._ How could a killer leave no trace behind? This wasn't the first case where this happened, but what drove her up and down the wall again was the fact that they had absolutely nothing. If it weren't for the carved section of the victims' abdomen there would be nothing to link the three victims other than their possible few moments before death. No records, no previous addresses, even foods they liked, there was simply nothing.

One victim was suspected to be HIV positive and had a strange bone marrow transplant. She was forty-five. Brown hair, green eyes. The second victim was perfectly healthy, no history of any illness or even injury, and yet she was killed in the safe fashion, rape, murder, removal of a chunk of her body. Her only history was a bat of child abuse from her step-mother, some older scars plagued through her body but according to her friends, she was a happy woman. Engaged. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. She was five feet, eight inches. The third, the fourteen year old girl, was what threw Olivia a painful boomerang to the case.

The third victim was only fourteen, a young girl just starting to discover the wonders of the world and at the same time the equally terrifying aspects of it. She had brown hair, brown and innocent eyes, and a small button face. Her nose was curved; freckles dotted it like paint splatters to enhance her face. Her eyes were small and almond shaped her eyelashes beautiful. Her lips were small, but present, a little shimmer in the summer sun, and her skin soft and creamy. Everything that Ella had on her features, the resemblance had shocked Olivia, and sent her into a mini panic attack. The proximity of where the girl was found, less than two hundred feet from her niece's school was what made Olivia drop everything and spend the weekend with Rachel and Ella.

She was there when the body was dumped; a small nagging thought that she couldn't get out of her mind. _She was there_. The killer may have even walked right past her. Past Ella and all the other kids that relied on the school for safety and security, that comforting window was shattered in an instant with this new death. It was what drove Olivia to sit in her office at almost midnight and try and pick up whatever information- or lack thereof- she could find. It was maddening to have no leads, no new information other than what she knew before she left.

Frustrated she threw her pen down on her desk and sat back in her chair, reclining gently and rubber her tired eyes, a headache began to accumulate at the base of her brain. She drew in a slow, steady breath and let her palms shield the light from her face, closing her eyes. She ran her fingers through her hair, and suddenly began to chuckle. Every time she did that Peter's words of a few weeks ago came back to her, how he always could tell when she was frustrated, she always did that thing with her mouth and her hair.

A small, tired smile crept across her face as her clock on her computer blinked midnight. She paused for a moment, letting her mind go blank as she thought. She knew Peter would be up still, he was a partial night owl. Taking the chance she gathered her information and headed out, locking up and making her way outside, and began the drive to Peter's house, hoping that her thought process was correct and that he would be up. She needed to pick his brain for a bit.

Minutes later she pulled up to his house, the outside was pitch blank with the exception of a small light coming from the second floor. It was Peter's bedroom, she had memorized that the first day Walter and Peter had her over for a small house warming party. She paused for a moment, hesitating as she reached for the door handle.

She hadn't spoken to Peter since Friday morning before her, Rachel and Ella went out for breakfast. While she had all intentions of calling, she really did, just things melted together and before she knew it the weekend was over, her nerves calmed somewhat and she headed back to Boston. She knew Peter was probably mad that she didn't contact him. That was supposed to happen when one was in a relationship. It was about trust. Not that she didn't think Peter could trust her, she knew he did; it was just the formality of when the significant other went away, calling was appropriate.

What if he didn't want to see her, let alone let her into the house? For a split second she considered just going home but she wanted to see him. On a whim she exited and made her way up to their door. Before she could knock it opened, Peter's face illuminated by the bright moon, the only light that peered into the dark space behind him.

For a moment he stood in front of her, drinking her in. "I saw you driving down the street," he explained quietly, careful to not wake Walter who she heard snoring on the couch. "You hungry?"

She nodded as he opened the door wider, "A little."

She removed her coat and placed it on the chair at the island in the kitchen as Peter grabbed the carton of chocolate ice cream and she dried two bowls that sat next to the sink, their bodies lighted by only the soft glow of the stove Walter kept on for a night light. As he scooped the dessert into the bowl he felt her eyes on him as she leaned on the counter on her hip, her fingers laced together loosely, watching his movements.

"Not the most nutritious midnight snack, but a snack nonetheless," he said and handed her the chilled bowl and she took it slowly. "How are Rach and Ella doing?"

She nodded, swallowing her mouthful of ice cream. "They're good, Rachel's doing well, she's seeing someone now, and his name is Brad. Nice guy. Ella had her first soccer game this weekend. Rachel says hello and Ella wants to know when you're going to come for a visit as well," he saw a small smile flash across her lips as she spooned another chunk of ice cream into her mouth. "Peter, about the weekend, I'm sorry-" she began.

Peter silenced her with a single finger on her lips, soft like his voice. "Liv, it's fine. I was a little angry at first, but given the circumstances behind it, I couldn't fault you. I was able use my con man powers to cancel before the deal was officially settled, so no harm no foul. We can plan another weekend away." He thumbed the corner of her mouth. "As long as you got this out of your system." She nodded a silent confirmation. Peter watched her take a spoonful of the sweet dessert and licked her lips in approval as she nibbled on it, her eyes drifted to the floor aimlessly. He could see the wheels of her brain turning through the darkness. "Something on your mind, Liv?"

She turned her stare back to his as she sighed, pressed her lips together. "Just this case, its mind rattling. I've reviewed the evidence over and over, the victims' medical history, personal history, demographics, and there's just _nothing_ to link them together." She moved from the counter and began to open up a few files, explaining her concerns to Peter who listen quietly and finished his bowl of ice cream slowly, savoring each bite to the last drop as she sat down, tying her hair in a sloppy ponytail behind her and continued to speak. Once she was finished, Peter began the task of catching her up on their discoveries of the day, the compound Walter found in their blood, a connection between the three that lit a small light back up in Olivia's eyes. Finally, something to go off of. It wasn't much, but it was there.

They worked quietly, bouncing ideas back and forth off the other and began to formulate new theories and ideas, new questions and a list of people to possibly interview once the sun came up. A comforting silence fell between them once again as they both began to write notes on the matter. Peter sat hunched over his pad and looked up to speak, but stopped.

At the other end Olivia sat with her head propped up on her palm, pen still in hand and her eyes closed, her breathing short and even. Peter laughed silently and stood, kissing her forehead and her eyes popped open. "You're falling asleep sitting up again, c'mon," he motioned towards the stairs. "Stay with me tonight and some sleep, we can noodle over this tomorrow."

She must have been tired, because she gave no protest as Peter took her hand and lead her upstairs. Walking into his bedroom he handed her a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and she disappeared down the hallway towards his bathroom as he changed and sat down at his desk to read a book, waiting for her. About twenty minutes later she emerged; her eyes practically closed as she took a hanger from his closet and hung her suit up.

Peter grinned as she moved towards the window and looked out, the lights of the city glowed yellow and red against the black backdrop of night, his room bathed in a white light from the moon that continued to creep higher into the sky. He swiveled on his chair and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pressed his lips against her light hair, feeling her lean against him and relax, her head dropping back to his shoulder. She smelled like him, the detergent and cologne he often used complemented her as it seeped from his clothes she wore, a claim that she was all his.

"If anyone can catch this guy, Liv, it's you." He whispered as she turned her head towards him, still supported by his shoulder and gently stroked the stubble on his chin, pulling his lips down to hers, letting his lips linger for a moment before letting go. He smiled and looked at her, and shook his head. In his arms she stood fast asleep, her body limp with fatigue. In one swift motion Peter cradled her body in his arms and moved towards his bed, setting her down gently and pulled the sheets up around her. He moved around and claimed his side and plugged in his phone to charge. He rolled and pulled the sheets up over him, facing her.

He felt her move next to him, and Olivia turned into him, nuzzling her forehead in the crook of his neck, one arm draped lightly across his hip and the other curled between them, her fingers spayed lightly across his heart, all hers for the taking. She was fast asleep, as evidence by the soft, light snores that came from her smoothed face. He kissed her nose gently and watched her sleep for a few moments before he closed his eyes and fell into her breathing pattern as well.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he whispered and drifted off to sleep.

Downstairs, in the dark of the house, Walter lay on his back, his hands crossed over his stomach and his eye stared at the ceiling, a large smile joining the wrinkles of his face as Peter's freight train snoring made their way down the steps, dancing on Walter's range of hearing. He couldn't help but watch the scene that unfolded before him, Peter and Olivia standing together in the kitchen, the sheer look of a tired happiness that floated between them and made Walter sigh with content, and remember he had to pretend to be asleep.

The temptation to join them in their midnight ice cream extravaganza was enormous, but Walter knew if he had the moment would have been gone and Peter's smile fade as Olivia left. He loved seeing Peter smile, seeing that he was happy. He wanted to tell Peter he knew about the two of them, that he knew since their trip to New York, but pretending he didn't turned out to be more fun than Walter had thought it would be, to see Peter's shock and seemingly embarrassed face at the mention of a secret love brought a joy to Walter that only a father could cherish.

Wide awake Walter began to entertain himself with what their wedding would be like, where they would go for their honeymoon, how many children they'd have… would they name one after him? Would Peter give in to Walter's demands and wear his old purple tuxedo? He probably guessed no. Maybe Olivia would ask Walter to give her away the ceremony. Of course he'd be honored to do so, he would tell her. Maybe she would call him 'Dad' after all. But then again he'd miss the way she said his name, with such authority and compassion.

The sun began to rise on the horizon as Walter still sat wide awake and went through every scenario in his mind. When he couldn't stand it anymore he stood and dressed for the day, combing his hair and brushing his teeth like an excited school boy, eager to get out of the house and let Olivia and Peter spend the morning in privacy. He quickly scribbled a note for Peter and opened the door quietly as the sounds of light footsteps made the floorboards creek, and he caught sight of Olivia's petite shadow heading for the bathroom. Walter couldn't stop grinning at how _natural_ it all felt.

Olivia was here, the ray of sunshine that illuminated Peter's life and, for the first time since his mother died, Walter knew he was truly happy. In her, he saw a fire that had been dulled and finally ignited again, the memory of her dead ex-boyfriend had become simply that, a fading memory. For Walter, seeing Peter always smiling and Olivia being the cause of that, it brought a forgotten calmness to Walter that he hadn't had since he was committed to St. Claire's, removing every sense of security and sanity he had as his family slowly fell apart. It had taken a while but finally, Walter felt his past wounds began to heal, and his heart mend at seeing his most secret desire come back.

His secret wish for peace, love, happiness and joy, and the hope for a family, to see his grandchildren grow up before him, and Olivia and Peter had given him exactly that.

_Hope. _

* * *

She let the warm water run over her body generously, the waterfall findings its own pathways down her body, sneaking all around her like a winding river into a lake, waking her up from her peaceful night's slumber. She breathed in the moist air, fanning the fire that brought a spark to her step. Even though she only slept for about six hours she felt completely rejuvenated, like she slept for years at a time and awoke refreshed. When she was in bed with Peter, she found herself drifting off easily, like the gentle rocking of a ship that let her fall asleep without difficulty as she floated on the water.

Olivia exited the steaming shower and dawned stuck her head out the door to make sure Walter hadn't wondered upstairs. That's the absolute _last _thing she needed, Walter catching her in the act sneaking back to his son's room wearing practically nothing. The hallway was clear as she tip-toed back to Peter's room to find him with his back to her, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. She closed the door quietly as Peter turned and blinked.

"Please tell me that this isn't a dream," he muttered at the short towel that barely covered her body and rolled over to the other side of the bed as she reached down and checked her phone. No calls. Not yet.

"If it was a dream, I'm sure you'd be naked too," she said, leaning down and kissing him good morning.

Peter grinned; eying her glistening skin, a sudden hatred for the towel began to rise, jealous that it was around her and not him. "Well that can be arranged," he said, his brows raising as he pulled her down to the bed onto her back as she gasped and Peter laughed, she immediately covered his mouth with her hand, dulling the sound that came out of his mouth.

"Walter's downstairs," she said, smiling from ear to ear as Peter kissed her lovingly, his hands slowly snaking down her leg, fingering the hem of the towel that barely covered her lower body. He pressed himself against her as he kept kissing her, his hand slipped between her legs effortlessly and he began to play her like the beautiful instrument she was. Olivia's body reacting to him as she bit her lip, her green eyes suddenly filled a deep color of lust.

"I guess you'll have to be quiet then," he whispered against her chest, and threw the damp towel away leaving Olivia naked beneath his clothed body. His lips traced the outline of her breasts as she moaned gently into his hair, his fingers playing a symphony between her legs, the heat grew between them as he watched her face turn, her lips curl and her eyes close. He loved seeing the things he could do to her body with nothing but his lips and his hands, the rising tide of love and lust that she could never say no to.

"_I'll_ have to be quiet," she breathed and she bit her lip to suppress another aching moan as his fingers working their magic over her most sensitive area. Olivia fisted his shirt in her hands, her back arching, "If I scream," she almost panted, "it's entirely your fault, Peter Bishop." She kissed him, drawing him into her, a little rougher than Peter knew her to be, the animal side of Olivia always showed when they made love and he absolutely loved it.

He smiled as he removed his pants and shirt, throwing them carelessly against the wall and gazed into her shining eyes as he entered her, Olivia's body shook beneath him and he grabbed her hands, placing them above her head and kissed her, swallowing his name on her lips and pulling his breath out of him as he rocked his hips into her rhythmically with her quickened breathing and her body drawing him in. She was able to get a hand free and squeezed his arm, her nails dragged against his skin.

"Sweetheart if I made you scream, I'd _gladly_ take the blame for that," he purred into her neck, dragging his teeth along her collar bone as he slowed his pace, something that always made her body shutter at the sudden secession of sensation. Olivia arched against him and grunted, a wide smile across her face as she bit his lip in approval, dragging her teeth against the skin of his lip as she eyed him.

In an unexpected twist she flipped him, landing herself on top and laughed at the surprised look on Peter's face. He may have the power to make her body do crazy things, but she had the control over the situation. She bent over him, her hair creating a curtain around them as she picked up the rhythm where he stopped. Peter's hands moved down and around the back of her knees as she placed a hand on his chest and sat up, ran the other through her hair, biting her lip and smiling as she grinded against him, Peter's face twitching at the way she moved her body against him, his eyes rolling back in his head as he gasped for air. God, she really was amazing.

Suddenly feeling inferior, Peter pulled her down and rolled again, taking his place on top of her as she moaned in half protest, half enjoyment. The wave they both were riding began to crest, growing higher and higher and they continued to make love, some attempts at a quiet crescendo failed as Olivia moaned his name louder than she intended, and he quickly silenced her lips once again, his pace quickening, knowing the satisfying end was near.

On the bedside table Olivia's phone rang, the name _Astrid_ flashed across the screen. Still rocking against him she grabbed her phone and Peter stopped, a smug glare and a sneaky smile formed across his lips and he spoke three simple, dangerous words.

"I dare you."

Olivia's face turned low, and she smirked. Relaxing against the pillow she looped one arm around his neck and pulled him into a slow, dragging kiss as Peter moved against her, an agonizingly slow pace that made her back arch once again as she tried to gain control of her breathing. She released his lips and hit send.

"Dunham," she breathed, trying to suppress a moan as Peter silently kissed her chest, moving slowly against her hips, her body betraying her desire to form somewhat coherent words as he continued to move against her, in and out at a tantalizing pace that nearly drove her over the edge.

* * *

"Olivia, it's Astrid," she said and stared at the computer screen, "Walter thinks he may have identified what the last part of the compound that was in the paralytic the three victims received. He believes it to be morphine; it may have been cloaked by the anesthetic he found initially, hence why it wasn't seen the first time through."

Behind Astrid Broyles grinned as Walter rushed over and grabbed the phone, putting it on speaker phone as his morning ramble began.

"It would make sense! Morphine, when given in extremely high doses causes respiratory suppression, and in combination with an anesthetic is an almost surefire way to guarantee that, not only will your victim not feel any pain, but when overdosed they'll simply stop breathing. My original theory of strangulation is wrong, but they were all killed using this mixture, and I have a feeling the ligature marks may have been made postmortem, possibly during transport of the bodies."

"_Anything else?"_ Astrid heard Olivia breath, her voice deep, almost smoky as she spoke, like she was short of breath after a run. In the background she heard a faint, deep groan that she was certain wasn't female in nature. Broyles was focused on Walter as he rambled on still, moving away and back towards the bodies.

"I think that's all, for now," Broyles said, "When you find something call me." He left as Walter ran back up the stairs, making Astrid leave the phone on speaker.

"Olivia, will you and Peter be coming soon?" Walter asked innocently, "I have some more things I need to discuss with him."

Over the phone she could hear Olivia smile as she let out a short breath, suddenly understanding the different perspective Olivia's voice gave, a different connotation of Walter's question, _"Soon, Walter, yes."_

"Excellent!" he hollered and nearly leaped down the stairs and began talking once again to himself. The phone clicked as Astrid caught a split second laugh that was clearly Peter's and bit her tongue; a wide grin came over her face as she laughed and sighed.

"What are you laughing at, dear?" Walter asked curiously as she placed the phone back on the base."

She shook her head, "Nothing, Walter, absolutely nothing," and turned back to the computer, chuckling to herself. She knew Olivia was gutsy, and just how much she confirmed, knowing _exactly_ what was happening on the other end of the line, and how oblivious Walter and Broyles were to it, to them. She grinned and made a joke in her head to herself, knowing now Olivia and Peter had suddenly given a new meaning to the phrase 'phone sex'.

Astrid huffed and looked at Walter, the routines that ensued, and the joy at a small, grin inducing secret she kept locked away deep within the folds of her mind. It was days like this that she remembered why she loved her job so much. The insanity of Walter, the angst of Peter and Olivia, and the mysteries that arose on a daily basis. She looked at the clock as it rounded nine in the morning and she waited for the moment when Peter and Olivia would walk through the door, coffee in hand, giving each other that _look_ and continuing the day as if nothing was different. Astrid smiled, knowing their little secret.

Everything, she knew, was different. This time, however, it was truly for the better.


	7. The Convicted and the Kidnapped

Apologies for keeping my wonderful readers in the dark, I had some lose ends at college I needed to tie up before finishing the semester, but now that graduation is around the corner and I'm done and present you with chapter seven! Cliffhanger warning!

Thanks for sticking with me! Enjoy! Reviews are always awesome!

**The Convicted and the Kidnapped**

_Cambridge  
10:30am_

The tires of the SUV sloshed loudly against the wet pavement as it turned into Lakeland Drive, sending a dense mist of water behind them. The rain ticked and trickled against the windshield as the wipers fought to clear the rivers the water carved over the windshield, allowing Olivia to see where she was driving- even through the torrents that fell. No accidents today, she told herself, one of the top things on her agenda. She had wrecked too many government issued cars in the past three years to drive anyone insane, the insurance companies being at the top of that list. A quarter of them she took responsibility for; the other seventy-five percent weren't her fault. Whether it was someone running them off the road, or taking a nose dive to avoid a bullet, it was for the better.

"I thought today was suppose to be a nice, sunny day," Peter looked over the water soaked bricks of the houses they drove through the development, "Remind me to never trust the weatherman again."

Olivia grinned. "I thought that was a given; they get paid to predict the weather, I'm sure the job description didn't include being correct or not." Peter huffed besides her and shook his head nonchalantly, a small curve in his lips formed at her comment. Who knew she had a decent sense of humor?

"So what's on the plan for lunch today? I figured we'd hit up that pizza joint you seem to enjoy."

"I'm not in a pizza mood, I was more thinking Emilio's."

Peter chuckled. "Emilio's is Italian; that means pizza. They make the best pizza this side of town. Kind of contradicts the 'no pizza mood' doesn't it?"

She turned the steering wheel, driving the car down yet another side street, the houses began to grow in size, her eyes averting his. "I was thinking more a chicken wrap, actually. They've got the best ones this side of town. You can get pizza if you want."

Peter turned his head curiously at her. This wasn't the same woman that, less than two hours ago, was sharing the same bed, the same woman who was sweetly whispering his name as they made love to the music of the early morning sun. Something made Olivia stand up straight, her voice wooden and stiff, her eyes darting back and forth searching for some type of avoidance. Even her hair looked different, despite the hair band that pulled it back. It had lost the bounce in it, like it was chained down. Pulling into a driveway on the left, Peter suddenly began to see it, the flattening of her face, the emotions drained from it, overcast like the clouds. He recognized the address almost instantly. Not by number or name, but by the numerous children's toys that were scattered carelessly across the front lawn, now frozen and abandoned in the rain.

Olivia's expressions mimicked the feel he suddenly had wash over him. Sadness, sorrow, and an understanding of the interview she had said they needed to do today. It was the house of the third victim, the fourteen year old girl who was found dead in the soccer field only a week ago. The bricks of the house were moist, their color a once happy eggshell white was now a darkened, slated gray, as if the house was crying for the loss of its inhabitant, the grass even seemed a paler green than what was normal for early May. The driveway was a dark, watery black as they stepped out of the car, examining the surrounding area. Any joy that used to be here was absent, gone, sucked dry. It was no longer a happy place. He could see it on Olivia's face.

Stepping around the side of the car he stood next to her as she released a loud sigh. "I hate doing these kinds of interviews. An adult is one thing, but a kid," she muttered. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to Ella."

Peter squeezed her hand reassuringly. "You'd catch the bastard," he said, smiling slightly as Olivia's mouth twitched. It was a microscopic grin, but it was definitely there, some of the tension rolled off her back. She nodded and lead the way through the rain and onto the porch, rapping her knuckled quietly against the door, half hoping no one was home. A locked unlatched and the door swung open, revealing a pale, red-faced woman, and a baby in her arms.

"Can I help you?" she asked quietly, her eyes sunken in from crying, her arms rocking a sleeping baby boy who cooed peacefully.

Olivia flashed her credentials. "Mrs. Warren, I'm Agent Olivia Dunham, with the FBI. Peter Bishop," she nodded towards where Peter stood over her right shoulder. "Would it be okay if we asked you a few questions? It… might help with our investigation into your daughter's-"

Mrs. Warren cut her off, not wanting to hear the word, "Yes, of course, come in, please." She opened the door and the duo stepped inside, examining the house. It was beautiful. Gleaming light yellow walls, wooden floors, fresh carpet, plentiful windows and the sound of a TV coming from the family room echoed an episode of SpongeBob Squarepants; one of Walter's favorite shows today, Peter shook his head at the irony. They followed the mourning mother silently into the kitchen where she offered a cup of coffee and a chair. Excusing herself for a few minutes to put the baby in its crib, Olivia stood and began to look at the pictures on the walls, the mantle, everywhere there was a frame and a toothless smile of a little girl whose body now rested in the morgue.

She picked up one in particular, a family photo. Jessica Warren, their third and youngest victim, had three younger siblings, a sister, and brother and the newborn addition to the family, dark haired baby boy. Her eyes shone brightly as she held the newest addition to the family, a proud older sister. Olivia smiled. She remembered the day Rachel was born and she was allowed to hold her, the precious, fragile gift that was a baby sister. Another was Jessica in a lacrosse uniform, dirtied and bruised, and happy as can be. Another was of her friends at what she guessed to be a birthday party. The girl couldn't have been more than twelve at the time and beaming.

"She looks so happy," Olivia said quietly. "It's unreal."

Footsteps echoed through the high walls as Mrs. Warren returned to the kitchen and handed Peter and Olivia a cup of coffee as they took their seats across the table from her, the baby monitor turned on and hummed quietly beside them.

"I'm sorry, you would have thought after having three kids I'd be an expert at this by now," Mrs. Warren chuckled and turned the baby monitor on low, trying to shake away the tearful shudder that escaped her body. "What can I do for you, Agents?"

Peter opened the file and set it down as Olivia spoke. "Mrs. Warren," Olivia paused, unsure where to start, and dropping her voice in pitch, "I am terribly sorry about what happened to your daughter. But rest assured, we're going to do everything we can to bring her killer to justice, you have my word. But in order to do so I need to ask you some questions." Mrs. Warren nodded in agreement, grabbing a fist full of tissues in preparation. "The day before your daughter disappeared, before you filed the report, did you have any arguments, any disagreements, anything that would have made Jessica want to leave or run away, say to a friend's house?"

"No," her voice shook with equal tension as her head. "It was like any other normal night before. Jessica came home from practice, did her homework, helped me with dinner, and took care of Bobby while I got my other two kids ready for bed. She was responsible. I know that doesn't say much for a teenager, but believe me, she was. Before Bobby was born, my husband left us for another woman, dropped everything and left. I was so proud of Jess. She stepped up to the plate to help, nothing a normal self-centered teenager would do. Even if we had argued, she'd never leave like this. That morning she left for school, and kissed her brothers and sister and me goodbye. Had I known that statement would have been true-" she stopped, a series of sobs overcame her as Olivia and Peter let her have her time. "Do either of you have children?"

Olivia glanced quickly at Peter who scrunched his brows at her in curiosity, "No, but I do have a niece. Kids aren't on the plan just yet," Mrs. Warren gave her a small smile through a tear-streaked, silent waterfall.

Peter spoke, changing the subject. "Do the names Veronica Marshall or Elise Charton mean anything to you? Perhaps people your daughter knew through friends, or family?" Peter pushed the photos of the two women forward, but Mrs. Warren shook her head, giving them a sure 'no'.

"Where they victims as well?" Mrs. Warren asked, unable to hold back her tears any longer than the first time. Olivia gave her a hesitant nod. "I hope you catch the bastard who did this," she said, her words becoming thicker. "I pray you never have to go through something like this, Agent Dunham. It's not something I'd wish on my greatest enemy. It's been less than a week, but it still feels… unreal. Like at any moment she's going to walk through that door, and we're all going to joke about this over dinner."

A younger boy, age seven or eight Olivia guessed, entered and opened the fridge, grabbing a juice box and spoke, "I know your niece," he said, popping the straw into the box and drinking down the cold liquid, "You're Ella's Aunt. The FBI cop lady."

Mrs. Warren looked at Olivia curiously, "As in Ella Dunham?" She asked, her brows scrunching together as Olivia nodded, "Paul and Ella are in the same class, Mrs. Benson at Stevens in downtown Boston. You're Rachel's sister?"

Olivia nodded again. "One in the same, yes. How do you know my sister?"

Mrs. Warren smiled for the first time in their visit. "Ella comes over here every now and then for a play date or if Rachel is running late from work. Wonderful girl, she is, your sister's raised her well. It's a small world after all, isn't it? Ella talks about you all the time, Agent. Nice to finally put a face to the name."

"Given the circumstances, I wish they were better," Olivia grinned and turned to Paul, a smile grazing her lips. "Is Ella behaving, anything I should know about?" he boy laughed and shook his head as Olivia winked at him.

Paul giggled. "No, I like Ella, she's one of the few girls Mom lets come over and play. Although, she won't let Jake come over anymore." Mrs. Warren shushed her son and sent him playing, but Olivia stopped him.

"Why's that?" something in Olivia's gut flipped, her face fading. She turned to Mrs. Warren, her eyes begging to let the boy continue. He looked towards his mother, who nodded in approval. He moved closer to the table.

"Jake's gotten really weird lately, I don't know why. He's not fun anymore, it's like he's a zombie or something. He always looks tired and weird. We used to be really good friends, but something's different about him. Mom doesn't like him anymore. He's not fun." He shrugged. "I think he's been brainwashed by aliens or something." Mrs. Warren hushed the boy away quickly.

"Jacob Handler," she shook her head, "Up until about a year ago, was a," she paused, "broken, but somewhat happy kid, always had a smile, but then something changed, like he was switched off. I'd go to pick up Paul from school and Jake would be sitting outside all disheveled and frightened, like he was afraid to go home and was petrified, or that he was being watched. He stopped showering; his clothes always looked dirty, almost like he was being abused. It was reported to the state on suspected child abuse by his foster parents, but with the investigation they found no evidence and dropped the case. He got weird, started talking about all these weird experiments he knew that were going on. After hearing about all this a few times and conferring with some of the other class mothers, I decided it was in my son's best interest to not talk to Jake anymore."

Olivia sat silently, pondering for a moment. "Do you have a copy of the class roster I can have, Mrs. Warren?" She nodded and rose to go make a copy; the wheels in Olivia's head began to turn. Minutes later she returned and handed Olivia copy, who thanked her and rose.

"Anything else I can do for you, Agent Dunham?" Mrs. Warren asked and Olivia shook her head and motioned towards the door with Peter behind her. "I appreciate your concern for this, for my daughter. If you hear anything can you please, let me know?"

"Absolutely," Olivia said, thanked the mother and excited the house. Darting through the raindrops they entered the SUV, silence falling between them.

Peter watched her curiously, seeing the ten yard stare that came over Olivia's face as she relaxed into the seat, her mind processing and cranking away quickly at the new information they received. "What are you thinking, Liv?" Peter asked curiously. Olivia gave no answer as she turned on the car and pulled out of the driveway, turning down the main street and headed in the opposite direction of the lab, leading to the headquarters of the FBI.

"I'm thinking lunch will have to wait."

* * *

Olivia diligently typed at her computer, her fingers flew over the keys, barely touching them as she stared at the screen and pulled up file after file. After talking with Jessica Warren's mother and oldest son something in her gut kicked her into looking up the name of the boy Mrs. Warren's son had mentioned, eight year old Jacob Handler. In a matter of two hours she had read through his file with Child Protective Services, the case investigated by DYFS, read the case debrief his mother's mysterious suicide and the incarnation of his father into the correctional facility in Tennessee, all occurring before the poor child's fourth birthday.

His mother had taken her life when she was two, the poor kid to witness his mother shooting herself in the head with a handgun after an argument the parents had. His father was a wanted felon for countless rapes and a double homicide, finally being caught a few years back and was now held with no bail and serving a one-hundred and twenty year sentence. He was unreachable and not allowed visitors. One aspect that caught her eye curiously was his brother, rather, step-brother, Joshua Handler, age sixteen and locked away in a hospital somewhere in the west. She opened up the file about what the Warrens' suspected, a case of child neglect and abuse starting at around age seven when he was placed into another foster home. All the while she kept stealing glances at the kid's photograph; his eyes were small, frightened, and dark. Her heart strings tugged slightly for him. No child should ever have to go through that kind of emotional trauma. She knew that first hand.

"Knock knock," Peter said and entered her cluttered office at the FBI, boxes of files were strewn everywhere, and her eyes peaked quickly over the crest of the computer and made contact with his. "I figured since we couldn't sit down at a restaurant, I guess here would be good enough." She said nothing as Peter sat down in a chair and pulled a chicken wrap from the bag. Quietly she opened it, took a small bite and began typing and reading away again. Peter couldn't help but grin as she did this small, mundane task. He loved watching her work; he could do it for hours. The intensity that came behind her eyes as she got further and further into the zone was simply mesmerizing. He took a mouthful of pizza and chewed. "F-nd a-thing?" he asked between bites as he swallowed.

"I don't know if it's something yet or not, but look at this," Olivia turned the screen around. "This kid's got one messed up five years of his life. Mom killed herself, dad was a murdering psychopath, and he's been bounced around foster homes every few weeks. He's got a step brother, Joshua, who also has been in and out of hospitals for the past few years."

"Step brother? So the kid's been adopted or something?"

Olivia shrugged. "That's the strange part. There's no record of any adoptions or even of him having a half brother. The only living family that is apparently alive is his uncle, but his last known location was California. I called up a contact over there and so far they've found nothing on him. Apparently, however, this guy was deemed unfit to raise children," she pulled the page down, "He's some kind of biologist who was thrown into a mental institution a few years back for experimenting on his own son. As far as I understand it, he's still there."

Peter hummed. "What kind of experimentation, does it say?"

Olivia shook her head. "Just that he used his son in some weird science experiment was caught and nearly killed the kid." She paused. "Here's a thought. What if Josh and Jacob aren't brothers, but cousins? Perhaps someone fudged the paperwork, falsified it to cover up something."

Peter chuckled. "Got to love those cover up schemes. Any current address on the uncle?" Again, Olivia shook her head 'no'. Peter sighed. "What about the father?"

"I'm not sure, but I can make a phone call in a bit, to see if we can arrange something. The guy's been locked up in a state penitentiary for the last five or six years, I can't guarantee we'll even get the phone number to arrange it." She leaned back in her chair, begging for a distraction. "Any progress from Walter and Astrid on whatever it is they found on one of the victims?"

He shook his head. "Walter's still working out the logistics, but he's thinking he may have found something. Walter is working at Walter speed, but something's getting done with it, slowly but surely."

She closed the sea of files that surrounded her. "I just hope it doesn't take him too long, I want this guy off the streets before anything else happens." Olivia took another small bite of her wrap and sighed.

"Not hungry?" Peter asked as she laced her fingers together and placed her chin atop them, her elbows planted on the desk. "Never hungry," he corrected.

"It's not that, actually I'm starving. It's just… I don't have a good feeling about this case; like we're missing something or something's going to happen right under our noses." Peter stood and closed her door slowly, making his way around the corner of her desk and plopped himself in the small arc in front of her, rolling the chair into him, bringing Olivia closer. He took her face in his hands, bent down and kissed her. "You always say that, right before some big breakthrough occurs. We're close, I can feel it." She rested her elbows on his knees, her head pressing into his chest, his fingers making their way underneath her soft strands of hair.

"Peter, I hope you're right." She said into his jacket, inhaling him in deeply. As he kissed her again his phone began to rang, Walter's name flashed on the screen. He opened it and before he could get a word out, Walter's voice blasted his ears.

"_Peter! You and Agent Dunham need to come to the lab, I believe I've found something! Hurry back here. On the double and not a second later!"_ Without another word Walter hung up, leaving Peter to do nothing but stare at his phone.

"To the lab we go," Peter said and stood with her, grabbing their coats as Peter helped her with the files. Before she opened the door, Peter placed his hand against it, countering the pressure she applied. He took her chin between his fingers and kissed her once again, small and petite, but with admiration. "One more for the road."

She smiled at him and opened her office door, making their way outside, where the dreary morning clouds began to dissipate and the afternoon sun began to peak through, shining a little warmth and light on their case.

* * *

"I've figured it out, what the substance was on that poor child's intestinal track, look!" Walter jumped like a child on Christmas, eager for Peter to look into the microscope at his discovery. Peter eyed him for a second, then slowly looked through the tubes and down into the slide. The substance he was looking at was clear, maybe a tinge cloudy, and thick. "It's Wharton's jelly. I've also studied the cross section of the vessels, and I was right! There were two arteries and one vein. There's only one connection in the human body that has that type of vascular setup." He looked towards Olivia who crossed her arms in confusion.

"Translate?" she turned towards Peter who still kept focused on the microscope, his brows furring together.

"An umbilical cord?" he asked curiously, an eyebrow raised. "That's impossible."

Walter huffed. "Well given our line of work son, I would say it's highly probable. But yes, I hypothesize that whatever was implanted or growing on these victims, the killer was trying to preserve or grow something."

Olivia crossed her arms, her head tilted downward. "Grow? Walter, you're not suggesting someone's trying to… _grow_ a human out of another?"

He moved over to the body, taking a section out of the abdomen. "What I am suggesting isn't that, no, although I'd be interested to see something like that occur. No, what I am suggesting is that someone merely wants the products of the umbilical cord. It's been a rather controversial subject in the news for many years, if I am correct."

Astrid glanced over from the computer before Olivia could ask. "Stem cells," the young Agent said, causing Peter and Olivia to turn towards her. "I was reading about it in the news yesterday, the idea that Obama may legalize the use of stem cell research. Stem cells can grow into any type of cell. Brain cells, liver cells, heart cells, anything."

"To cure a disease, or perhaps help a dying child," Olivia muttered. "Jacob Handler's brother – cousin- whatever he is was apparently in the hospital several times a month, for whatever reason is still yet to be sought. I have a call in with Broyles to subpoena his medical records."

Peter stood up straight, a thought coming to mind. "The first victim, Marshall, she had a bone marrow transplant, correct? Astrid," he said, turning towards her. "Try searching for any leukemia, anemia, blood disorders or bone diseases that have been treated in the past two weeks, any hospitals or doctors' offices that have an outpatient clinic for pediatrics, begin the search there."

"Why?" Olivia asked.

"There's a chance perhaps one of them also treat Handler. It's a strange science, but I read somewhere a while ago that a victim of some blood and bone disorder was cured by giving another victim their own diseased marrow, that the victim was able to fight off the infected marrow and cure it, this giving the patient a better outcome." Olivia said nothing, but cocked her head in disbelief. "Don't ask me how or where, but trust me. Run the search."

Astrid nodded. "I'm on it."

In her pocket Olivia's phone began to ring, "Dunham," she said, turning her back to them. Suddenly she threw her hands up in anger. "What do you mean he _escaped_ and they never filed a report?" She listened again, her face swelling in disbelief. "Book the flight; we'll be at the airport in two." She hung up and nearly threw the phone against the wall.

"What?" Peter asked, seeing the flush come over her face, her lips pursed.

"That was Broyles. Jacob's father, Alexander Handler, escaped from prison a month ago. The prison never reported the escape." She shook her head, grabbed her keys. "I'll be back in an hour to pick you up; we're flying to Tennessee to question the prison. This isn't just a case of murders anymore; he's a wanted felon with a taste for blood."

Peter said nothing as he glanced towards Olivia as she stormed out of the lab, her back tense and her face set as she took the stairs in one giant leap and threw open the door. She heard a voice call her name from behind her as Peter ran, amazed at the distance she created in a mere five second span.

"Hey, Liv," Peter said, catching up with her, grabbing her arm, "I get that you're pissed, but storming into a prison demanding to talk to the Warden isn't how you should approach this. Sure, they covered it up but-"

Her phone rang again as she turned to face him, "Dunham," she said.

"_Liv?"_ came Rachel's panicked voice other the phone, _"Liv, thank God,"_

Olivia's face changed from anger to worry, her eyes glistening as Peter heard her sister's frantic voice over the phone. "Rach, take a breather and slow down, what's wrong?"

"_She's gone, Liv,"_ Rachel half screamed and half cried into the phone, _"I came home, and she wasn't there. She called me when she got home, and that was a half hour ago." _

"Who?" Olivia asked quietly, her eyes connected with Peter's as her face dropped, and her stomach sank.

"_She's gone," _Rachel cried, sobbing into the receiver, _"Ella's gone…" _

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	8. Fire and Ice

Apologies for the wait, it's been a crazy past few weeks for me! I'm hoping to have chapter 9 up soon, but for now, enjoy! Reviews always welcome!

**Fire and Ice**

The only sound resonating around Olivia was a low hum of the old ceiling fan and a gentle clang of metal on metal colliding effortlessly with the aged wood overhead in her Harvard office. _Click. Click. _The ticking of a rotating clock buzzed in her ears, ticking away an immeasurable time since she sat and stared at the wall, her sinking like a stone in her chest. She felt grounded; the electricity that had constantly flowed through her was gone, driven into the earth's soft core and left her drained and powerless. There was no electricity in her. Not anymore. Where she once felt airless she now felt heavy, the full effect of gravity and reality had taken their effects and left her lifeless.

_Click._ _Click. Click. _

Olivia sat motionless, barely breathing as her mind froze up, locking into place. The machine was halted, a building pressure behind her eyes that forced rivers to tears to gently flow, pooling at her collar. She drew in a slow, shaking breath and let it out without hesitation, swallowing the bowling ball that had lodged itself in her scratchy throat, her mouth gone dry and her eyes glassy as tears flowed down her cheek. Nothing moved around her, suspended in a harrowing disbelief and concrete fear.

The heat in the room grew, making salty sweat mix with pepper tears, stinging and burning her skin as they collided, scaring her cheeks with horrific news she received only two hours ago. Her beautiful niece, her night and day, her shining armor was taken. Gone. Kidnapped from underneath Olivia's protective watch. Stolen. She was powerless to do anything about it.

"_We've set up a twenty-mile radius search. We're knocking down every door, raiding every building and questioning everyone we come in contact with about your niece's kidnapping."_ Broyles' voice echoed in her ears. _"Olivia, I'm so sorry. We're doing everything we can, with every available man out on the street looking for her. You should go home and be with your sister, the interview can wait." _

The sun had began to set just outside the dirty, brown streaked windows, bending the oranges, yellows and reds that gently caressed the walls of her office, painting them in their respected colors, crossing and blending into one another effortlessly as the dust in the air danced beautifully in the warm rays, a graceful ballet as they moved around the charged air effortlessly. The room began to glow pink and orange as the colors meshed and melted.

All Olivia saw was black.

The door to her left creaked open slowly, Peter stuck his head through the small crack to get a glimpse of what Olivia was doing- or in this case not doing. His heart sank to see the dismay that had turned her into a statue, unmoving and gray, her skin turned to concrete before his very eyes. He stepped lightly past the door and clicked it shut, walking slowly over to her and leaned on the desk. She made no notion to acknowledge him. She didn't even blink. For a moment, Peter thought she wasn't breathing until he saw her chest rise and fall. It was shallow, but it was there. Tears welled in his eyes to see her like this. It was a shock that made his stomach twist in worry. He made no motion, just let her be. He wanted to touch her, to hold her and comfort her but something held him back. It was something in her eyes. They weren't sad, or upset or even dismayed.

They were gray. Cold. Empty. Dangerous.

"Olivia," he whispered, reaching for her cheek in an attempt to comfort her. In a flash she jumped up with such haste that Peter nearly fell of the desk. Maybe she didn't see him sitting next to her after all. "Olivia," he said louder, the compassion in his voice gone as he watched her walk heatedly over to the locker she kept in her office and tore the door open, nearly ripping it off its hinges.

In it she picked up the picture of Ella that fell off the inside of the door. Her face, Peter saw in the small mirror grew stern, the color returning to her face as her lips flattened, her jaw jutted forward and her chest hitched as her breathing deepened. He watched with an unsettling curiosity as she moved quickly, her speed increasing as she stripped carelessly out of her suit without hesitation and pulled on a pair of jeans and an intimidating black button up shirt. She attached a holster to her right thigh and snapped her gun into place while clipping a belt across her hips, securing the spare magazines and a set of handcuffs as well.

Something had snapped inside her head. When she threw her unloaded backup gun and more spare magazines onto her desk and began to load them, Peter slowly stepped towards her. She worked with a terrifying calmness that immediately sent a red flag up in Peter's mind. Olivia always did that before she went on some dangerous suicide mission, or she did something incredibly stupid. The fire that was dampened in her soul was suddenly raging, ignited by the smallest electrical spark that brought her back to life. The air seemed to shimmer around her, like a street on a scorching summer day.

"Liv," he asked calmly, gaining her attention as he took her hands into his, stopping their working pace. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to do exactly what you said I'd do," she said not skipping a quiet beat, "I'm going to find the bastard. If he's done anything to hurt Ella, then I'm going to kill him." She loaded her second gun and clicked everything into place. "Simple as that."

Peter huffed. "Simple. Right. So what, you think barging into a maximum security prison demanding to speak to their Warden is going to get results any faster?"

Her anger began to boil; he could see it in the acoustics of her body. "Well sitting around here isn't doing her any good, Peter, and if anyone's going to question the Warden, it's going to be me. So while they search, I'm doing my job." She turned sharply on her heels, "If any leads happen to pan out I'll call you."

Peter grabbed her arm quickly, "Time out, you think you're going down there _alone_? Out of the question, I'm coming with you."

She wretched her arm from his hand and turned fiercely back towards him, her tone escalating. "No, you're going to stay here, help Astrid and Walter. This I'm doing on my own."

Again, he grabbed for her arm and held her back, feeling her tense under his strong hands, her fierce eyes locked with his. "Absolutely not cause if you do something stupid, I won't be there to protect your ass!"

"You think I need protecting?" she spat back at Peter, almost insulted, as Peter felt his own blood boil. She was impossible like this.

He back-pedaled quickly. "That's not what I meant. When you get worked up, you make stupid mistakes, Olivia, mistakes that can and have almost gotten you killed. If you want her back alive, you need to think straight, which currently you aren't."

"I'd die for her, Peter," she said strongly, but he cut her off.

"I know that, Olivia, any of us would, but with everything that's happening now, you're turning this into a suicide mission. If you get killed, then it's all over. Do you really want to put Rachel through the torture of burying her daughter _and_ her sister?"

Olivia opened her mouth to say something but stopped, silenced by Peter's statement. Her chest heaved as she breathed, angered by his accusations and turned to leave but he grabbed her shoulders, spun her around and forced her back into the wall between filing cabinets and gave her a little shock. Peter was never rough with her, even when she gave him a beat down once or twice.

His face turned from annoyance to concern in an instant. "Olivia," his voice was soft as he loosened his strong hold on her arms, "Please, don't do this. Don't shut me out like this," his thumbs soothed the painful area on her arms, "Don't isolate me. I know you're worried, sweetheart, and believe me I'm just as concerned as you are for Ella but you need to get it through your thick skull that the way you have it all planned out isn't for the best. Take it from me, your run of the mill conman. I can't tell you how many times a plan of mine failed because I was too emotional." He cupped her face in his hands, outlining her cheeks. "Give me an hour to pack a bag and I'll go with you, not as a protective detail but as your backup. In case you need me. Scouts honor."

She swallowed against his wrists. "One hour," she croaked and moved away from his gaze and into the lab.

Sighing, Peter looked around the small room feeling the heaviness in the air, to the pictures on her desk. Now that Olivia was gone, so was her firestorm. The air was thick, soupy and dense with the after burn of her wildfire, all the remaining embers still glowing in their embedded casings. It was startlingly quiet in her office; the noise from previous moments ago seemed to drown out with the flames she sent, licking the life away from whatever surface she touched. The color was drained. Greens turned to gray, red to black, yellow to brown. Everything just… gone. Dust hung suspended in the air like ash, falling gracefully to their final resting places as the aftermath finally began to fall into play.

Silently he left and avoided her, leaving Olivia and Astrid alone to run logistics of everything they needed for this interview, the rap sheet of Alexander Handler, maps of the prison, and the family history between his younger son Jacob and nephew Joshua. Even a background file in the Warden of the prison. Comparing files they grabbed on the other murder victims and the file now highlighted with Ella's name they loaded everything onto Olivia's computer.

Fifty-seven minutes later exactly Peter re-entered the lab with a change of clothes for him and even Olivia as Astrid handed them their plane passes and the confirmation for a suite at a hotel twenty minutes from the prison inside Nashville itself. Without another word the duo left, hoped in Olivia's SUV and made their way for the airport.

She hadn't said a word to him on the drive over, nor on the flight to Tennessee either. As they sat together on the plane he tried to steal a glance or even strike up a conversation but she had retreated into herself again. Olivia was quiet, an immovable silent mountain, on the plane ride down south, not even bothering to even acknowledge his existence. He tried to hold her hand as they took off knowing Olivia wasn't an exact fan of flying but she pulled away from his grasp, reaching for the pre-flight whiskey she had ordered and swallowed it in one smooth gulp before the plane left the comfort of Earth. When Olivia is frightened, she retreats into herself. Her fear would turn to anger, and that's how she got through the rough patches.

Almost three hours later they had walked into a hotel in Nashville with two small suitcases and a backpack containing all the data they had compiled. Checking in, Olivia silently handed Peter and key card as he followed her into the elevator. She still gave him the silent treatment, for what he guessed as forcing his way into her investigation. Olivia liked doing things by herself, but in this case he wouldn't have it. The elevator ride was awkward as they waited to hit their floor. Finally they did and exited, turning through the labyrinth of hallways to get to their room, a suite in the corner of the hotel. Broyles picked that room, Peter guessed, so that Olivia wasn't left alone, but still met the protocol of the same gender not sleeping in the same room.

Once inside they began to make themselves at home, separating into the different bedrooms. Sighing Peter sat on the bed in his room, trying to let some tension go. As he did he glanced around his surroundings. TV on the wall, desk in the corner, door leading to his own bathroom, and a big bay window that overlooked the city as the sun began to set. It wasn't unlike any other hotel room he'd ever slept in, soft sheets, a mediocre mattress and shower in his room. But still, it felt empty.

Through the open door he saw Olivia return to the common room and spread herself out over the tables and began compiling the evidence together, comparing and contrasting the files and folders they brought on everything to do with the murders, Ella's disappearance, and the escape from the prison. The earliest interview they could get wasn't until the morning, so tonight was free game, almost. Through the noise of the TV he heard papers fluttering, her fingers pounding away at the keyboard, and the occasional sigh as she breathed. He sighed again and turned the volume up on the TV to distract himself, but to no avail. He so much wanted to say something to her, but the black gun strapped to her leg told him otherwise.

His stomach growled reminding him it was dinner time. He thought for a moment and slowly began to strip down to take a shower, half tempted to pick her up and carry her into the steaming waterfall, but his instincts told him otherwise. Maybe she'd surprise him and join him like she did on numerous occasions in the past.

But Olivia didn't.

He kept waiting another minute for her to sneak her head around the glass doors, but after almost a half hour he stopped waiting and stepped out to find her sitting in the same spot as before, no change in her body mechanics. He didn't even bother to close the door. Had Olivia had even the slightest desire to look at him she would have done it by now. Dressing, he threw his wallet in his pocket and grabbing his cell phone from the charger he closed the light and walked towards her, her eyes glowing from the computer screen.

"I..." he paused. "Want to get a bite to eat?" she gave no answer, just simply stared at the screen, her hand scribbling furious notes on the yellow paper. He dipped his head. "I thought so. If you want anything, or need anything, call me." He waited for another second more, then left. He sighed, defeated as he closed the door, leaving Olivia alone once again, with her thoughts, quite and mundane.

* * *

_Location: unknown  
11:35pm_

The first thing she felt was the bitter coldness of the concrete floor against her cheek, the harsh, gravelly texture of the ground made her skin burn as it pressed harder into her flesh and left its painful imprint. It scratched, pulled and irritated her, rousing her from a not so pleasant sleep as her head swirled with pain and fatigue. She felt like she'd been hit with a baseball bat, her brain throbbed against her skull, as if it was begging to be let out. Her eyelids were unusually heavy, weighted by the dampness of the air around her. It was thick, painful to breathe in. But she did her best.

Every muscle in her tiny frame shook with pain and a sudden awareness of an overwhelming fear. She tasted blood on her tongue, the salty, iron like flavors made her stomach flip as she bravely fought back the urge to vomit. Opening her eyes slowly Ella found herself in a small cellar of sorts, the air damp and sticky around her and the concrete was wet with humidity. She wasn't sure if her clothes were wet or if she had an accident, both viable options at the moment. The only sounds she heard was the distant of a pipe, her own breathing and her heartbeat, throbbing erratically as her fear began to spike, her heart rate increase and her emotions betray her.

Slowly Ella sat up, fighting the urge to collapse again and stood, balancing herself on the moist bricks that were her dungeon, searching for an exit. Rusty dark orange chains hung on the wall opposite her, their shape visible by the small streak of light that peaked through what she believed to be cracks in a wooden floor. Up above she heard voices, faint but there. And scary. Dark. Haunting. A wave of panic wiped over her, sending the small girl's body into a quaking fit that made her collapse against the wall and curl up, squeezing her eyes tight to be rid of the darkness that surrounded her, finding no comfort. It took every effort not to scream and cry out loud.

As she sat curled and scared, the voices above her began to become clearer. Chairs screeched, echoing loudly as the voices, male she recognized, began to speak.

"What do you mean you kidnapped a cop's niece? Are you really that _dense_? Do you know what's going to happen to you if she is ever found?" The first man sounded angry, his voice gruff and scratchy. No doubt they were talking about her.

The other man let out a jolly laugh, his voice was younger, smoother. "They won't find her, believe me. I've been watching her for quite some time, this girl. She's rather special. I'm one step closer to finishing my experiments, and when I do, believe me, you'll be thankful, if your son really means anything to you. The key here is age. The first specimens were too told. The second was a teenager. I saw a much quicker growth and better cell development in her than the first two. With this child, I believe she'll be that breakthrough we're looking for."

The other man stood, walking away. "You had better be right. If not, I have a bullet with your name on it. There's a FBI agent visiting the prison for an interview, and I need to prepare. Call me when it's over. "

The room above went black as the men exited. Unable to process what they had said, Ella found herself wrapped in a cold blanket despite the searing temperature in her dark cell. Finding a somewhat comforting corner she curled into a ball and placed her head between her knees, and began to cry, the only comfort she could was behind her closed eyes, and a small prayer for hope.

* * *

_Nashville, TN  
01:00am_

The city around him was jumping with life as the streets began to roll from their lively days into their nocturnal nights. Cars honked, music pumped from various clubs and bars around him as Peter swallowed his last mouthful of beer, paid and made his way back to the hotel they were staying at, waiting until the time came to question the prison warden they were going to investigate- or interrogate, depending on Olivia's methods. There may have been a connection between an escaped convict and the gruesome murders that had taken place around the city within the last month, as well as the kidnapping of Olivia's niece. He was willing to bet she'd be in the same spot he left her in almost six hours ago. If she found some sort of connection he wasn't sure.

He sighed as he opened the door to the hotel and walked towards the elevator. While waiting for it he caught sight of a familiar body at the bar, blonde hair hung low and her shoulders shrunk with sorrow. In public, Olivia didn't show weakness. By herself, she was an emotional wreck. He could see right through the curtain she pulled around herself. Abandoning the open doors Peter made his way to the bar to find Olivia staring into the bottom of an empty whiskey glass. No gun on her leg. Probably a good thing, he decided.

Sliding into an empty seat next to her he ordered himself a drink and sat quietly. Her elbows were slouched at the bar, her head sat steadily in her hands. He heard her swallow hard and sniff, the inside of her shirt collar was soaked with tears. Peter motioned towards the bartender to refill her glass which he did without hesitation, seeing the sorrow on her reddened cheeks. He moved his stool over to hers until the gap was closed between them. He slowly slipped his arm around her waist, planting a subtle kiss on her shoulder, pressing it into her skin with his forehead. She made no movement to acknowledge he was there, just sipped the glass that seemed to magically refill, staring off into oblivion.

He didn't need to say anything to her for Olivia to know he was there. He would always be there even when she didn't need him. Truth was, he knew, she did. Perhaps she was just too proud to admit it. Maybe it was something else. She had retreated so far back into her own self Peter wondered if she could find her way out. But there was one thing he had that Peter knew Olivia didn't. He had the upmost confidence in her to pull everything together and find Ella. If there was anyone who could do it, it was Olivia.

Paying for his drink and adding Olivia's undetermined tab to his he left her alone and journeyed back to his bed. He quietly dressed himself for bed and slipped beneath the light sheet that covered the bed. Curling up into the sheets he tried to get comfortable and relax but could not. His mind was racing with continuous thoughts and ideas that made him second guess sleep. If anything were to happen to Ella, if they had to discover the worst, he didn't know if Olivia was strong enough to handle it. But he tried to push that out of his head. They were going to find Ella. They didn't have a choice.

He didn't know how long he lay there for, but the sound a slowly opening lock and the small bright light from the hallway told him Olivia was back. It took every amount of self control he had to not jump up and throw his arms around her, but he knew doing that would only drive her further away. He sighed and tried to close his eyes. In the living room he heard her soft footsteps move across the carpet, a floor board creek outside her room. Then a pulsating silence filled the air again. He lay there for what seemed like hours until he heard her moving again and the door to his room squeak open. The weight on the opposite side of the bed shifted as he felt her move up behind him, her hand hesitantly rested on the strong muscles of his back.

Slowly Peter turned around to find her lying next to him, her pale, swollen face illuminated by the delicate milky light of the moon peering through the curtains. Her body was still with just her empty eyes staring into his. She curled an arm beneath her pillow. She found a familiar comfort from her aching heart in the coolness of his body, the soft understanding of his face. She let out a quiet and quivering sigh as Peter shimmied closer, snaking his arm underneath her pillow, his hand finding hers as he cradled her head. His other hand rose to wipe away the tear streams that seemed to scar her skin.

She was like two polar opposites; fire and ice. The black heat he felt coming from her just hours ago in the lab was gone, extinguished by the hours she kept herself locked inside her own thoughts. Replacing it was a cooling, strangely calming blue-white frost that glowed across her body, accented by the blue light coming from the windows. He gently slid his thumb over her cheek bones and played with the ends of her hair, happy that she came back to him, to pull her back to Earth.

Peter leaned in slowly and kissed her sunken and swollen eyes. Those empty, blackened orbs that lead a dark twisted pathway to her seemingly damaged soul, his lips pressing life back into her. He had missed the green in her eyes and holding her in his arms seemed to bring a little color back to them. Delicately he traced her porcelain lips; dried and cracked underneath his fingers their texture was rough and uninviting, not the way he remembered her to taste like. Slowly he arched his neck and kissed her, breathing her fighting spirit back to her. He ran his tongue over her lips, soothing the painful dryness that had kept her away from him. He felt her hands on his cheeks, anchoring Olivia back to him, to remind her who she was; that she was the one person who could solve this problem, who could make all the nightmares go away.

Silently he moved; Peter's hands brought her even closer until her heart was flush against his, his arms wrapped around her as he hugged her. Olivia dipped her head into the crevice of his neck, her breathing had slowed, her eyes glued to his.

"I'm sorry, Peter," she whispered into the night, her thumb rubbing the stubble on his cheeks. Her voice was sweet music to his ears. "For acting like an ass, for treating you like crap even though you were trying to help, for…" she breathed unevenly, "Everything. I… just got so worked up and so upset that it took me a while to see things straight, to just take a deep breath like you said."

He smiled. "I'm just glad you didn't shoot me," She closed her eyes and laughed a small, throaty chuckle. It was small but it was definitely there. "We're going to find her."

"I hope I can," she said quietly into his skin.

"It's not if you can, _you will_. I've learned a lot about you over the years, Olivia, and there's one thing in particular that I admire about you. You don't fail. _Ever_." She gave no answer, but smiled back at him and kissed him, letting her lips linger for a little longer.

"Thank you, Peter." Olivia said, her eyes glowing. Peter kissed her again and released a long kept sigh, feeling Olivia finally relax against him as she drifted off, light snores coming from her.

"You can do this. I have more faith in you than you have in yourself. You have no idea how extraordinary you are," he whispered into her ear. "It's what makes me love you even more."

Olivia opened her eyes lazily, the green emulated through them almost brought tears to Peter's eyes as she yawned, returning her forehead back to his chest. With that, she was back asleep in his arms, and for a moment the world seemed right. All the tension that had built in the past few hours seemed to fade away, evaporate into the air leaving them dry and refreshed and seemingly refueled for whatever event was going to take place in the morning.

Unfortunately for Peter, sleep didn't come easy. In fact, it didn't come at all. All he could do was watch Olivia as she slept and count the red flashes on the clock as it ticked away, the numbers growing larger and larger as time passed until she awoke and hopefully found answers to all the chaos that had happened.

All Peter could do was wait.

* * *

_I hope you liked it, I didn't like this chapter as much, but I'm hoping you did! Let me know! Reviews welcome as always!_


	9. The Lion's Den

**Author's Note:** Apologies for the delay, folks! I've been a bit busy with work, but alas I bring you chapter nine! We're starting to wind down a bit here, with the final chapter on its way!

Thanks for reading and reviewing! If you haven't done so, check out my newest fic, "Crossroads".

Onward we go!

* * *

**The Lion's Den**

_Tennessee State Maximum Security Prison  
09:30am_

His thick southern accent made Peter's skin crawl and his stomach turn uneasily. He could see Olivia had the same feelings walking through the damp, dark corridors of the prison. They had been here since quarter to eight, and spend the past hour and a half on a tour of the facility. Their escort, the prison's Warden, was a middle aged man, somewhat heavyset with thick, hay-like salt and pepper hair, leather looking skin and freakishly wondering eyes, outlined by thin wire glasses. If Olivia had been uncomfortable with the way the Warden stared at her, she didn't show it.

"There is all but one rule here, Agent Dunham," the Warden called behind him, the corners of his stringy mustache poked through either side of his profile; his voice elongated by the extensive echo that ricocheted through the silver corridors of the Tennessee State Prison. A loud _clank_ interrupted their conversation as the doors opened to the maximum security area. The hot cry of the prisoners erupted through the steel door. "That any man is guilty, and he must seek forgiveness for his wrong-doings. I believe that one must pay for their sorrows and woes, whatever their misdeeds, however sentenced and seen fit by the justice department," they began their walk through the bottom tier. Faces emerged from the dark corners of the cell blocks as crude, obscene comments flew and hands reaching through the bars and cooing at Peter and Olivia. Glancing towards Olivia, he caught site of face, silent and neutral as she tried ignored them. The Warden turned, his lips twisted at her flirtatiously. "That'd be you, ma'am."

Olivia nodded, her eyes avoiding his. "Yes, I'm aware of that. Mr. Smithers, where exactly are you taking us?"

"Why, a tour of the facility is that not why you were sent, Agent Dunham?" His lips kept curling into a smile as he eyed her, making Olivia shift her stance uncomfortably. Balling his fits, Peter was prepared to deck him as he eyed his partner like a prized animal but quickly capped his bottling frustration. Quickly they moved through the floor before coming to the opposing wall where another door remained closed, sealed tight.

"We were sent to investigate the escaping of one of _your_ inmates, Mr. Smithers," Peter took a step forward, shielding Olivia from the Warden's wondering, prying eyes. "And so far you've shown us nothing useful to make us warrant _not_ arresting you for withholding information on a _federal_ investigation. We were told by your superiors that we would have your full cooperation in this matter and yet I don't see it." He felt Olivia's hand pull his shoulder back slightly, signaling him to back down.

Warden Garfield Smithers turned to Peter and narrowed his almond eyes; Peter could smell the aged tobacco on his breath. "Very well, Agent Bishop. If you'll follow me, we can continue this conversation in my office." To spite Peter he turned his eyes back to Olivia and winked. Turning sharply Peter and Olivia let him take a few steps ahead of them.

Pulling Peter's arm towards her, she brought her lips to his ears, and gently pinched his triceps. "Easy, Peter," she cautioned lowly. "We need him to give us information. Don't pick a fight with him."

He turned to her and quietly exclaiming, "Don't pick a fight? Olivia, the man's been eying you like a piece of meat." He snapped his head around as another wave of rowdy inmates began to call to them again. He could see Olivia swallow hard, her eyes averting from the prisoners behind them as they waited for the door to open.

"I didn't say I was comfortable here either, but the quicker we get this done and the more cooperation we have the better. Okay?" He could see the pleading in her eyes. They needed this interview; it could lead to information on Ella's whereabouts. Peter nodded as an overwhelming desire to put his arm around her for protection grew. The door latched open as the guards signaled for the trio to enter.

Behind them the voices of the prisoners' grew louder, as one rang out above the others, a jolly and terrifying cry that made Olivia's heart race with uncertainty and a slowly growing uneasiness.

_Welcome to the Lion's Den. _

Another corridor led them to a single elevator. Pressing the button at the top, the ride was slow given the age of the structure, an old Civil War compound that strangely reminded Peter of Alcatraz Island. As they lifted agonizingly slow he felt Olivia press her back against his body, cramming into the small space as again, the Warden eyed her over his shoulder. Gently Peter pressed his hand into her lower back serving Olivia as a conscious reminder he was there, her support and backup. He didn't like the situation any more than she did. Seconds later the doors opened to yet another corridor, this one resembling an office building rather than a prison. Two double doors at the end of the hall had large glass windows, the Warden's name etched elegantly into them. Following behind him they entered, where he motioned to two chairs in front of a long, dark wood desk.

"Now tell me, Agent Dunham," he sat down and crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his legs, "What can I do for the FBI's interest in my… _establishment_?"

She was straight to the point. "What can you tell me about Alexander Handler?" She lowered her chin, staring at him, a glance Peter took to signify she was in charge of this investigation, not the Warden.

Gracefully he twiddled his thumbs in thought, his gaze turning back to Olivia through his thin, wire glasses. "Mr. Handler, what can I _not_ say about him? Alexander Handler is a ruthless and vile man who, on many occasions, has disobeyed me, the brave men and women to work for me, and even disgraced the word of God himself, challenging the rulings of His own creations, His own judgments. I found him to be particularly… challenging. A man who embraces a life of crime is not a stable man, you understand this. We tried to rehabilitate him, and yet he refused. Our methods had no effect on him."

"And what exactly are your methods?" Olivia asked, her eyes narrowing to meet his.

His hand patted a leather bound Bible next to the lamp, "I believe that with hard work, through a man's own blood and sweat and acceptance of his sins he can be forgiven by the Lord and most importantly, forgive himself. But Handler seems to not want forgiveness, not salvation. Not in the manner that we believe." Warden Smithers smiled a cruel, deceitful smile and Olivia felt her stomach turn. "But again, that is not why you are here, Agent Dunham."

She leaned back, resting her arms on the chair as it squeaked below her. "Approximately one month ago Alexander Handler escaped from this facility under the seemingly watchful eye of over five hundred security guards and hurtled over an electric security fence and several other obstacles that one would deem impenetrable." Lowering her chin she gave him a challenging stare, attempting to regain the upper hand. "I want to know why no one has filed a report with the State. You let a convicted felon escape and not even a word was uttered about it."

The eerie smile had not left his face. "It was an internal matter that we are currently dealing with. We too have begun our own investigation on the break and have yet to come to a conclusion."

"I'd like to see that report, Mr. Smithers," she said forcefully. "But you did not answer my question. Why wasn't a report filed with the local police and word spread to the public?" Peter watched her sit forward, her body tensed as she raised her eyes, her lips pressed tight as her voice grew in amplification. "Handler is an accused murderer who may have once again started his killing spree. Three innocent people have died the same way he murdered his two victims," she sat forward slowly, her voice grew fierce, "and a scared, beautifully innocent little girl gone missing and you're just going to sit here and tell me this is an _internal_ matter?"

"Agent Dunham," Peter cautioned as her voice raised, the anger evident as she put a vice grip on the chair's armrests, her knuckles turning white.

Smithers remained calm, if not calmer, his thumbs rubbing against each other as he grinned still. "Believe me we are handling the matter. I already have been in contact with the local police and they are aware of Handler's emancipation and have undercover agents all over keeping an eye for Handler."

It took all of Olivia's self control to not jump across the desk and slap that smug grin off of the Warden's face as her blood began to boil, and he could see it. "And for all you know he could be halfway across the country, even the world and because you failed to take the correct course of action by filing a report with the police _and_ the FBI he could be long gone!"

"And we have paid the fine for that, Agent Dunham," Smithers countered, cocked his head, clearly happy with the reaction out of her as he examined the anger and frustration in Olivia's face. "I'm sensing another reason that you are questioning this, I can see it in your eyes. The little girl he kidnapped- that's it, isn't it? What connection does she have to you?"

Olivia swallowed the hot, dry lump in her throat, but it was Peter who spoke, matching the Warden's calmness. "The kidnapped girl is related to one of our agents, and a family friend of Agent Dunham's." He glanced towards Olivia's fierce eyes. "We're not accusing you or your guards of anything, Mr. Smithers, just trying to save the life of this little girl. So please, any information you have on Handler, maybe any of his friends in here who may have helped him or any indication of how or when he may have escaped, as well as any reports you have shared with your officials would be of great help to us."

Narrowing his eyes once again, Smithers focused his attention solely on Peter, reading into him. "Captain Millan," he called into the hallway, "would you be so kind to bring Agent Bishop a copy of our reports and Handler's file?" The young officer nodded and left. "My superiors were correct in guaranteeing our cooperation, and so you have it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have rounds to make." He stood slowly and rounded the desk towards Olivia, bending down next to her ear and smiling again. "Your partner uses his words well, but I'm sure you already know that. It was a _pleasure_ to meet you, _ma'am._" He chuckled darkly and stood, his posture tall as he exited, leaving Peter and Olivia alone once again.

A few minutes went by before she said anything and suddenly shuttered, and made a sour face. "Olivia? You look like you're about to puke."

"If he was to keep talking I may have, he's disgustingly creepy," she licked her lips, "and irritating. Something was off with him. I don't know what. I just…" she was cut off as the Captain handed them a stack of files.

"Agent, this is everything we have on Handler and the reports filed, as well as an account of what was in his cell prior to the break, inventory and copies of the mail he received, incoming and outgoing. If you'll follow me, I'll have Officer Lever escort you out." He said, turning on his heel and motioning for them to follow. Another series of steps, doors, hallways and elevators brought Peter and Olivia back outside and to the gate.

"Thank you," Olivia said to the officer who simply nodded. "By the way, I was curious. The prisoners were chanting 'welcome to the Lion's Den.' why that nickname?"

The Officer raised his head, eyes averting the ground. He spoke quietly and carefully. "In here, there are two ways of life. Eat, or be eaten, so to speak. Conform to the ways the Warden has laid out or…" he paused, shying away from the last of his sentence.

Her interest peaked. "Or what?"

He turned his back, opening the gate quickly and ushering them outside. "There are bigger things going on here than meets the eye, Agent. I'd urge you to not revisit this place. Evil lurks within these walls. Good bye." Without another word he closed the gate and locked it, not before Olivia caught site of the silver cross resting against his chest. She narrowed her eyes to meet it, and saw a hidden fear that resided among him.

They walked slowly to the SUV parked just past the gate. Unlocking the doors they slid into the truck and began the hour drive back to the hotel. Broyles had booked a flight later that night for them, leaving a little less than ten hours before they had to be at the airport to go home. As they drove back to Nashville, Peter couldn't help but steal glances to where Olivia sat, her arm perched on the door and her eyes staring out along the road, lost in thought. Whenever they went on an interview she was always quiet on the car ride back, processing and thinking and he had learned in the past to let her be and to think. When she was ready to discuss, she'd let him know.

Once back at the hotel they headed back upstairs with the files in hand. Knowing Olivia, she'd probably want to spend the next few hours going through the files, beginning to take notes on the new information they received. His suspicions were correct when he offered to grab lunch at a deli a block from the hotel, leaving her alone once again with her thoughts and theories. Coming back he found the couch empty. Instead she was sitting on the bench by the bay window, overlooking the city aimlessly. Her knuckles pressed firmly across her lips as she breathed evenly. Something was bothering her that alone he could see in the way her shoulders hunched around her.

"Hey," he said quietly and gently nudged her forward and sat behind her, bringing Olivia's body into his protective embrace, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder. "What's on your mind, Liv? There's something else running through that spectacular brain of yours, something other than the case."

She remained frozen in his arms, "The Officer who brought us back to the car- did you see the look on his face? He looked… I don't know… petrified."

He moved the mass of hair away from her shoulder, his lips ghosting across the crevice of her neck. "He works in a prison, there's bound to be some uneasiness in his job."

Her head turned slightly into his light kiss. "No, there was something else. I saw it in his eyes." Her head leaned into his shoulder, eyes fixed against the wall opposite them. "He was fearful, terrified, like he'd just witnessed something that literally _scared_ him to death. Something just didn't feel right in the way he said 'evil lurks within these walls'. Sure, he could just be overly religious, but Peter, something just wasn't _right_."

Peter sighed against her shoulder. "Your gut again?" she nodded slowly. "Anything in his file from the prison?"

"I just skimmed it, but so far, nothing of use." Feeling the intensity in her back, Peter moved his hands to her upper back and gently pressed his thumbs between her shoulder blades. Applying a gentle pressure he began making small circles in the area between her spine and her shoulder blades, fingers spreading to her shoulders. "The Warden was just as… slimy."

Peter couldn't help but giggle. "If I have any say, I'd think Mr. Swamp-man had the hots for you, Liv." He hitched his voice in his throat, impersonating the Warden and gently kissed her, just behind her left ear, "_Ma'am._" Still moving his thumbs on her back, he felt some of the tension in her back release as she chuckled.

"I could say the same thing about you, the way those prisoners were carrying on, I'm sure they'd _loooove_ to get a hold of your butt." Olivia yelped in protest as Peter picked her up in one swift motion and carried her to the couch, her back gently hitting the cushions as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders afraid to fall. His reciprocated by placing his arms around her waist. Nuzzling her nose with his, Peter gazed into her emerald eyes.

"If you ask me, what you need is something to help you relax, take your mind away from everything for a half hour." His lips graced her exposed neck, hands kneading her lower back gently.

"And I assume that something would help take _your_ mind off it too," she grinned at him, as he offered her a wide smile.

Peter chuckled. "_Exactly._" He said against her lips, kissing her lovingly. Peter brought his shoulders square over hers, his lower body paralleling into hers. He was determined to help erase the memories of that eerie Warden and the uneasiness she left by any means necessary, and at that very moment he deemed a little foreplay on the FBI's pay roll was the way to do it. The small moan that Olivia let escape from her throat confirmed his thought process as he continued to move against her, a smile grew wider across her face.

Feeling pressure on his shoulders Olivia sat him up, straddling his waist; her hands cupping his rough cheeks, letting her teeth drag along his bottom lip teasingly. "I take it we're to leave _this_ part of the trip out of the debrief, am I correct?" He nipped the skin just below her neck, fingers working to open the small buttons on her shirt as she shot him a surprised look, capturing her lips in his again.

"If you did I'm sure they would classify that as 'inappropriate use of FBI resources'" he kissed her again, slowly this time, enjoying the feeling of Olivia in his arms. "Although, I'd say I'm using my resources in the most appropriate manner." He pulled her shirt from around her body, letting it pool on the floor next to the couch, kissing the skin over heart, letting her pulse vibrate through him. As he took her lips to his again, he smiled as he felt a pressure against his jeans as her hands slowly unclasped his belt and pulled it from around his waist, feeling Olivia chuckle against his lips.

As if on cue, Olivia's phone began to ring, its buzzing matched the pitch of Peter's groan. Always interrupted, he thought. Never could they just have twenty minutes to themselves. "Don't," he muttered into her neck as the incessant buzz continued. Grabbing a fist full of his shirt she bent backward and reached over grabbing the infernal device, her brow wrinkled at the blocked number. Placing a finger on his lips she kissed him, begging Peter to hold his thoughts for just one more minute.

"Dunham," she answered as he placed his forehead on his shoulder.

"_Aunt Liv?"_

His smile dropped as the color drained from Olivia's face, her red lips now ghostly white. She tightened her grip on Peter's shirt not just for support, but holding onto him for dear life, the angelic tone bringing Olivia out of gravity's hold as she jumped off Peter's lap. "Oh my God, Ella? Are you okay? Baby girl where are you?" Her voice panicked and clutched her chest, her heart racing. Peter immediately got on his phone to Broyles to track the call.

_Keep her talking_, he mouthed, pointing to the receiver, designating the beginning of the call trace.

"_I'm fine, Aunt Liv, really. I have someone here who wants to talk to you."_

Her eyes widened as she spoke quickly. "No, no, Ella, don't give up the-"

The darker voice of a man sank into her ear. _"I know by now you've initiated a phone trace, Agent Dunham, so I'll be quick and save you the time. In forty-eight hours I will contact you with my location and we can meet in person. Come alone, and rest assured, no harm will come to your niece." _

"Who are you, what do you want?" She asked, shaking.

"_You already know who I am, Agent Dunham. The only thing I want is to make it all stop, to bring justice to those who deserve it, to right a grave wrong. You can help me with that." _

She gritted her teeth, "If you lay a finger on her, I _swear_ I'll-"

"_No need for empty threats, Agent Dunham. I'm sorry it's come to this, but I needed to gain your attention. Now that I have it, as I promised, no harm will come to your niece as long as you do _exactly_ as I say. Forty-eight hours. Not a minute sooner." _

Anger welled in Olivia's eyes. "As a measure of good faith, let me speak to my niece." A shuffling came over the receiver. "Ella?"

"_Aunt Liv! Don't worry, I'm fine, really!" _The cheeriness in her voice had put Olivia over the edge. _"I need to hang up now, but I'll see you soon!"_

Olivia swallowed. It had only been forty seconds, if that long. There was no way they could trace it. Knowing it may be the last time she'd hear from Ella, there was only one thing she could squeeze out of her throat. "I love you, Ella." A click signified the end of the conversation, making Olivia freeze in place. She shook quietly as Peter wrapped his arms around her again, feeling Olivia attempt to hold back a sob as she buried her face into his shirt, a vice grip crimpled his shirt together.

"Were you able to trace it?" he asked Broyles, and sighed at the disappointing answer. "Keep trying, then, anything you can do to track it. I'm going to call the airport and see if we can arrange an earlier flight. We'll be home soon." Forcing his phone in his pocket he held Olivia tighter, red hot tears leaked onto his shirt. Gently he rocked her back and forth slowly, pressing his warm palms into the cold skin of her back.

"We were close," she whispered, bringing her head back up to gaze at him, fists still balled tight against his chest. "We were _so close_."

"At least we know she's alive, she didn't sound hurt or like she was scared. Olivia, she'll be alright. Ella's a brave girl, she gets that from you. You're going to find her, Liv." He cupped her hot cheeks, rubbing away her tears, "Do you hear me, Olivia Dunham? _You're_ going to _bring her home_. Okay?"

She nodded, gulping and whispering. "Okay." He pressed his lips hard against her forehead. "Get dressed; we're heading to the airport." Without another word she left his arms and began to rapidly pack up her suitcase.

The next thing Peter knew he was putting his carry-on in the overhead compartment and taking his place next to Olivia. Peter had been able to work out a deal with the airline to take an earlier flight, and even managed to somehow get them back into first class. Working for the FBI did have its advantages.

"Almost there," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. She let out a shaky breath as she nodded to him, buckling herself in as the pre-flight preparation began. Slowly the plane moved and the engines began to rev to life.

"Peter?" she said, over the low hum of the engines, gaining his attention. "I still _hate_ flying," slipping her fingers between his again. This drew a smile to his lips as he squeezed her hand, watching the plane leave the ground and rapidly ascend towards the afternoon sun.

* * *

_Twelve hours earlier_

It had been hours since she heard the two strange voices from up above her, the scary, rough male voices that had seeped through the holes in the floor and made her nerves jump. Every creak, every small chirp that managed to reach her ears had made Ella cringe with fear, her heart catching in her throat as she waited for the second when the world was come crashing down further into darkness and take her with it. Each second that passed in a deafening silence made her heart throb in her eardrums so loud she was sure it shook the walls of… wherever she was.

Her stomach growled angrily at her, burning and cramping as she clutched her abdomen in pain, willing for it to stop. It had been almost twenty-four hours since she had eaten or drank anything and now she was beginning to feel the strange repercussions. Her head throbbed and was heavy, and she felt tired and weak, but she fought bravely to stay awake. Whoever had kidnapped her had put out what she assumed to be food on a rusty silver plate but she was too scared to even try and get it. She found a corner furthest from the door and crawled into a ball and waited for something to happen.

Soon, something did. She heard footsteps echoing in her ears. At first she thought she imagined it. As they grew louder she knew she hadn't. Above her the door slammed open as the two voices, one young and one old began a screaming match.

"This was a mistake," the younger voice quivered, "he should have _never_ made it out alive, Captain! How did he do it? I don't understand, everything was in place and yet something managed to turn into a shit show! Now the _FBI_ is heading here to question the very thing that could land us behind these walls!"

The FBI? That caught her attention as Ella moved closer to the men above her, trying to find a crack in the floor to look through as one thought ran through her mind. "Aunt Liv." she whispered.

"Do you think I _don't_ know that, Lieutenant? What did Millan have to say, anything? After all this is his fault we're in this situation now" the older man growled.

"That worthless Ensign? He had nothing to say, no reason why his team failed to put a bullet through his head and let Handler escape." He quieted for a moment.

The Captain paced back and forth as Ella watched curiously from her perch in the underground corner. "There are two federal Agents coming tomorrow to investigate the prison break, and there's already a story in place. Believe me, the Warden has already been briefed on it and is preparing a back story as we speak." He spoke quickly. "The good news is that already Handler can be pegged for those murders, I'm sure the authorities, now knowing of his… escape, have already begun to suspect him. Some good may come out of this yet."

"But _he_ knows how Handler did it; if they find Handler and he speaks we're all screwed." The Lieutenant punched the wall angrily.

The Captain paced again. "But he won't. Not if we catch him first and kill him. The only question that remains now is what to do of the girl. Why'd be kidnap her? More importantly, where on Earth did he take her?"

Ella gasped. They knew about her. These two men knew she was kidnapped. Even more closely she listened.

The Lieutenant shrugged his shoulders. "Sir, I don't know. But I don't have a good feeling about this. At all. Maybe it's time we told someone the truth."

"No," the Captain snapped. "The truth will only cause more harm than-"

A loud gunshot rang out and stopped the Captain's sentence short, making Ella gasp and cover her ears as the second rang out, followed by two loud _thunks_ as the bodies fell to the ground lifeless. A sickening smell of thick iron began to fill her small area as the blood began to drip through the floorboards, slow at first then faster as the bodies above her emptied. She sat frozen with her hands covering her ears, tears falling down her face as she shivered in fear, listening to the still air above her and the steady _plop_ of the blood as it drained. All she could do was silently beg for it to stop.

The sound of wood cracking rattled her again as an ax broke through the floor boards, causing her to scream out loud as the wood splintered and fell, dust drifted slowly through the air as light streamed through. Once the hole was big enough a man climbed down, his shoulders level with the floor. Turning on a flashlight he shined it slowly towards her. She shunned away, moaning at the pain the intense light brought to her head.

"Hey, kiddo, you okay?" he said calmly. The only response Ella gave was to curl further up into curl further into the corner, praying the concrete would protect her. "It's okay; I'm here to help you. I'm a friend; I'm here to help you, Ella, to bring you home."

She squinted through the piercing white light to look at him. "Who are you?" she squeaked, almost not recognizing her own small voice.

He offered her a warm smile, "My name is Alex…"

* * *

_Reviews welcome! _


	10. A Promise Kept

**Author's Note: **Dani: thank you for your wonderful review! It was very nice to read that! I've often wondered myself, why some fics get more reviews than others, but I suppose its luck of the draw for reading, liking and actually reviewing. I try to not let a low number of reviews discourage me from continuing, but sometimes I really wish it would have a bit more. But either way I'm proud of this fic, low number of reviews or high, I love the way it's turning out. And I know everyone else will too!

I wanted to do something different with this chapter. We're backtracking just a bit where the last chapter left off, and then pick up again to perhaps answer some questions and raise more, make your suspenseful hearts scream with agony, and keep you on the edge of your seats!

As always, reviews much appreciated and welcomed!

* * *

**A Promise Kept**

_Twelve Hours Earlier  
Midnight_

Every muscle in Ella's small body shook with fear as the two bodies fell to the floor with an unlively _thunk_. She could smell the thick, coppery blood from her protective corner, the smell of iron and death made her stomach turn uneasily and her head spin. As it began to trickle through the cracks in the floor Ella placed her head between her knees begging the urge to vomit to subside as her mouth ran dry. She could taste the sickly thick, copper liquid on her tongue as it dripped, as if she had tasted her own blood.

Above her she heard them being dragged limply into a corner, followed by sound of wood creaking. An unearthly _Crack!_ echoed in her small area as a large ax protruded from the wood, making her scream aloud and hold her ears, begging the ripping and twisting of wood to stop. After three more large swings the wood was torn away and a hole formed where the bodies dropped. Tears rippled from her eyes as she silently pleaded it to stop. Soon enough they did, and when she opened her eyes she saw a man kneeling down on the floor, slipping into the hole and turned on a flashlight.

"Hey, kiddo, you okay?" the man said, kneeling down and shining a flashlight towards her, illuminating the cocooning darkness. She raised her hand to cover her eyes and squinted at the painful light, making a face at the dirt and grime that coated her arm. Her breath hitched in her chest as the air suddenly electrified with a bright fear that crept up the back of her spine.

Her voice was small, pinpoint to a level where she wasn't even sure she had spoken. "What do you want?" she squeaked.

In the light she saw his face soften, a warm glow flashed around him. "I'm here to bring you home, Ella. I'm a friend. Please, I need you to trust me."

She remained frozen. "Who are you?" she bravely asked.

The man in front of her, wearing a simple blue jeans and a black long sleeve shirt offered her a warm smile, his eyes soft and comforting. "My name is Alex. I believe you know my son, Jake."

She scrunched her brows together curiously. "Jake is in my class at school. I didn't know he had a dad." Something in his smile brought her racing heart down a notch and it easier to breathe.

Alex nodded. "I haven't seen him since he was a toddler. But this isn't the place to talk about this. Let's get you out of here." Ella hesitated as he held out a hand. "I won't bite, I promise, and I'm sure you're hungry. I'll get you a change of clothes and some food, and then I'll take you home." Again, she remained still and just stared at his large palm. "Ella, we don't have a lot of time. Please. Trust me."

"Why should I trust you?" she whispered. His smile never left.

"There's a reason for all my deception that I can't tell you, but soon I will. I'd hate to make this all worth nothing in the end." He extended his arm, is fingers outreached. "I won't hurt you. That's a promise I'm going to keep. Besides, Agent Dunham has been worried sick about you."

Her eyes widened. "Aunt Liv?" she jumped to her feet excitedly. "You spoke to her?"

"Soon I will, and you can be the first to say hello. Right now we need to get you out of here and someplace safe." He kept his arm reached out as Ella took a few precarious steps around the pool of blood and placed her small hand in his as Alex lifted her out of the space and onto the floor, bringing himself up next to her. As she stood she swooned, Alex catching her in his arms. "How about I carry you instead, so you don't fall?" Ella nodded as he picked her up in his strong, protective arms.

He felt her tense as she followed the rivers of blood to the bodies in the corner, strung around like two dolls, her eyes glancing on the two bullet holes that pierced their skin between the eyes. "Why did you kill them, Alex?" she asked. He turned her around in his arms.

"If I hadn't, they would have killed me and you too. I didn't want to, but I needed to in order to keep us safe." He said and she sighed and nodded as Alex turned and they left the room. She gazed upon the stone gray corridors of… wherever she was, in awe. A few twists and turns later they arrived at a back door that sat small against the massive stone wall that Ella thought seemed to stretch for miles and opened to a warm, clear night sky.

"Where are we?" she asked looking from left to right at the structure, barbed wire decorated the top of the bricks and just past the edge she could see a set of roofs.

Alex kept walking towards the small sedan that sat parked on the side of the road, "An evil place, Ella that I pray you never have to bear witness to." He opened the backdoor and placed the small girl on the seat, letting Ella buckle herself in as he slid into the driver's seat. "I've got a hotel room reserved about two hours from here. I figured you could-" He stopped as he glanced into the rear view mirror and chuckled. Ella was fast asleep in the seat, her nostrils flaring as she began to snore softly. "I guess it can wait, then."

Placing the car in drive he turned the radio on low enough to not wake the sleeping child as he drove into the night, leaving a small trail of dust in the tires, and the Tennessee State Prison in his wake.

* * *

_11:00am_

Ella felt as if she was floating on a cloud; embraced in soft, cotton sheets she awoke to find the sun peaking through a dark curtain as its rays danced on her eyelids. She wasn't in the dungeon-like underground anymore, but curled comfortably on a soft bed, pillows molded all around her and a warm comforter tucked delicately around her body. The past few days had seemed like only a dream- between the creepy dungeon, the terrifying black darkness, and the man who pulled her out of there- but as she hoped out of bed and saw her dirtied clothes and grime-caked arms and legs, she knew it wasn't.

Standing in the doorway she glanced into the living room where she saw Alex asleep on the small couch. Seemingly too big for its frame he seemed to teeter on the edge, making her smile. He creases in his face smoothed as he slept soundly. For a few minutes she watched him. His broad shoulders rose gently as he breathed his cheeks soft and body relaxed. Could this man truly be the cold-blooded killer she witnessed earlier? Impossible, she thought. He looked too calm, peaceful, an intimidating teddy bear that had saved her life from whoever had taken her.

She was always taught to be mindful of strangers and that they were dangerous but with him, Ella felt a strange sense of safety encase her. Alex's towering, muscular body was a large deception to the human eye. He looked terrifying, dangerous, and even deadly. His hands were rough and uninviting, his skin stained with ink that told his story, and his short black hair was stringy, messy and greasy. But it was in his eyes that Ella found comfort, that the shroud he dressed himself with was nothing than a mere illusion. In his eyes she saw comfort, integrity, and an unknown love and desire to protect those that couldn't protect them. In a way, he reminded her of her Aunt Liv. Maybe that's why she didn't fear him. Alex wasn't a killer, and she knew this in her heart. He was a misunderstood guardian angel.

His eyes fluttered open as he caught site of Ella standing near the bedroom door. He sat up and stretched, yawning. "Good morning," he said, looking towards her. "How'd you sleep?"

Ella leaned tentatively against the door frame and slowly moved towards him, "Fine, thanks." She plopped beside him, Alex grinned towards the small girl, his face soft and serious.

"Ella, in order for us to be safe, for those men to not find us I need you to trust me. Don't leave here without me. I need you to protect me as much as you need me. Promise me you won't run off?" She nodded slowly, a silent confirmation of his request. "Good. I bet you're hungry, because I know I am." He said. "What would you like to eat?"

She chewed on her bottom lip in thought. "Pancakes and bacon? It's my favorite."

Alex smiled; his voice calm and inviting, almost velvet- like. "Mine too. So how about this: why don't you go get cleaned up while I go get us something to eat." He crouched in front of her, placing his large hands on her small knees. "Then afterward we can call your Aunt. Sound good?" Ella nodded. "I was able to find some clothes for you, I hope they fit, they belong to my son. I put them on the chair next to the bed. Now go get cleaned up, I'll be back soon." He stood slowly, towering over her small frame and headed for the door. In three strides he was across the room and at the door.

"I don't think you really are a killer, Alex," her small voice called, making the man freeze with his hand on the door knob, and turning his head slowly towards her. "If you really are the guy the police are after, I mean, you would have hurt me by now. But you haven't. You rescued me from whoever took me and who wanted to hurt me." She flashed him a bright smile. "Thanks." Without another word she hopped off the couch and entered the bedroom.

For a moment Alex didn't move as a small tear formed in his eye. He had been imprisoned for so long he had forgotten how innocent and believing children could be. He couldn't tell Ella he was the one that took her, and if she could out she'd be more fearful of him than ever. He hadn't wanted things to turn out like this, but Ella was his link to the authorities, to finally settle all these wrongdoings and brings those responsible to justice, even if it meant his own life and freedom in return. Right one wrong with another would only put him back to square one.

Glancing towards the clock, it blinked eleven-fifteen. Forty-five minutes he'd make the harrowing phone call to Agent Dunham and make the next step in his plan to set everything straight. He wouldn't hurt her, that promise he would keep without hesitation. Silently, his head full of thoughts; Alex left the hotel room and closed the door silently behind him.

As he rounded the corner another door and entered the stairwell, the elevator doors opened slowly, the chime acknowledging their floor with a tin-like ding, its inhabitants stepped past the sliding doors almost in unison.

Entranced in thought Olivia stepped onto the hallway with Peter quietly in tow.

* * *

_11:40am_

Olivia sighed deeply. She sat on the worn carpet, knees angled upward against the table, her head in her hands. Sitting hunched over the table her shoulders sunk low as she stared at the prison's file of inmate Alexander Handler. He was defined as a ruthless, vicious killer who had evaded authorities on numerous occasions, and who she suspected to be behind the kidnapping of Ella. What motive, however, was her ever-alluding question. What could a murdering psychopath want with an innocent, eight year old girl?

Did Alex know that the FBI was searching for him? Was that why Ella was taken, perhaps as a warning to them that he'd do anything to get them off his back? More importantly, how was her niece? What had he done to her? The only image she saw was her baby girl sitting alone, cold in a damp hellhole, her beautiful eyes blackened by fear.

_Why?_

Olivia prayed to whatever entity would listen that Ella wasn't harmed, that she was healthy and sane, because should Handler put one hair out of place Olivia would give the criminal a beating she knew he'd deserve- even if it meant putting her job on the line. Running her fingers through her hair Olivia sighed heavily again and closed her eyes, begging for any distraction to get her mind off of how scared Ella must be.

By the bay window a car horn honked from the streets below, almost summoning Olivia to the warm orange rays of the afternoon sun. She stood and seated herself on the bench next to it, pressing her back against the wall and her forehead to the glass, fighting back the fearful tears that loomed against the corner of her eyes. She had overcome so many hurdles in her life only to trip on the stretch home.

"Hey," Peter breathed as he moved towards her, placing his hand on her shoulders. She turned towards him, moving along the bench so he could sit behind her. Olivia hadn't even heard the door unlock and open. His arms wrapped around her slowly, pulling Olivia towards him, the pressure of her body against his made her relax slightly. Tucking her head against his shoulder she closed her eyes, allowing Peter to comfort her with nothing but his gently touch. She leaned back slowly falling into his protective embrace. Contradictory, she thought. She was supposed to be the protector.

Sometimes, however, she was the one who needed protection. Peter had taught her that.

Drawing in a long, filling breath she relaxed against him, allowing Peter's embrace to let her calm her and distract her from the evils of the world.

Sometimes, that's all she needed.

* * *

_11:40am_

Ella sipped happily on her chocolate milk and shoveled another forkful of syrup-soaked pancakes into her mouth, gobbling down the fluffy mid-afternoon breakfast as she watched her favorite cartoons on the TV. Next to her Alex sipped his coffee slowly and finished his meal in silence, the cogs of his mind turning rapidly.

"Can I ask you something, Alex?" she said, swallowing another mouthful as he glanced at her. "You don't act like a bad buy. Why did you kill those people?"

He slowly put his cup down, staring at it in thought. "I didn't kill those women, Ella. It wasn't me."

"So then what happened? Why are you being blamed? That doesn't seem fair if you didn't do it." Alex stared into her brown- doe eyes hesitatingly. Was he really going to tell an eight year old the truth of everything that was happening to him?

He sighed. "There are evils in this world, Ella that you cannot possibly understand. People manipulate others to do their wrongdoings and those who are innocent take the full effect of the outcomes, good and bad. That was what happened with me. I tried to do the right thing, but in the end I was deceived by someone I thought was my friend. They stole my life, ripped my son away from me, and put me in that hell hole of a prison, and threw the blame on me for everything."

"What about your family? They didn't believe you?" she asked innocently. "What about Jake?"

Alex swallowed. "That's the hard part, Ella. They believed the lies. My wife became scared of me and left with Jake when he was merely a toddler, ran away because of what was said about me and the crimes they were made to believe I committed. But I was innocent. It was all planted, all to make me look like the criminal, and because of that wildfire of a lie my wife," he paused, remembering who he was talking to, "died. Jake was forced to grow up believing his father was a monster."

"But you're not," she protested. "You're not a monster and my Aunt can prove it, I know it! When you meet her you'll find that out, she can help you!" She hopped off the chair and grabbed the room phone from the table, "We can call her, and you'll see that! She's always helping people who need it, Alex."

He sighed, grabbing the base of the phone. "Then let's give her a call and see," he forced a smile. Ella returned it and quickly punched in the number as Alex held his breath. He knew they were going to trace the call, so he had to call her quickly before they could pinpoint their location.

"_Dunham,"_ he heard the Agent answered calmly.

"Aunt Liv!" Ella said joyfully, smiling at the receiver.

Alex heard the Agent's voice hitch through the receiver. _"Oh my god, Ella? Baby girl where are you, are you alright?" _

She giggled happily. "I'm fine, Aunt Liv, really! I have someone here who wants to talk to you!" She handed Alex the phone as he steadily raised it to his ear as the Agent spoke quickly.

"I know by now you've initiated a phone trace, Agent Dunham," he said, his voice thick as he tried not to scare her, "so I'll be quick and save you the time. In forty-eight hours I will contact you with my location and we can meet in person. Come alone, and rest assured, no harm will come to your niece."

"_Who are you, what do you want?"_ He could hear the desperation, the anxiety and the anger in her voice as it pierced his heart. This truly wasn't what he wanted.

He took his cue from Ella. "You already know who I am, Agent Dunham. The only thing I want is to make it all stop, to bring justice to those who deserve it, to right a grave wrong. You can help me with that."

Agent Dunham gritted her teeth at him, _"If you lay a finger on her I swear, I'll-"_

"No need for empty threats, Agent Dunham." He reassured her, "I'm sorry it's come to this, but I needed to gain your attention. Now that I have it, as I promised, no harm will come to your niece as long as you do exactly as I say. Forty-eight hours. Not a minute sooner."

He glanced at Ella at Agent Dunham's request and handed the small girl the phone as she bounced happily on the bed. "Aunt Liv, don't worry, I'm fine, really!" He pointed to the base again, "I need to hang up now, but I'll see you soon!" A second later she clicked the phone down as Alex glanced at the clock. Forty seconds. They wouldn't be able to trace it. He'd wait another hour then they'd check out and make their way to Boston. The trip he knew would take a little under a day by car, giving him time to plan out his next move, where to meet the Agent and plead his case.

"See! I told you she'd help you." Ella said, smiling brightly at him.

He nodded, trying to play along with her imagination, and what she truly believed was happening. "That you did. Finish up eating, kiddo. We're going to get you home soon. When you're done we're going to leave and drive to Boston. It's about a day's worth drive. I can get you some books for the ride if you'd like."

Ella nodded and flung her feet back on the bed, her attention turned back to the TV as Alex left her alone once again, returning to the living room and opened up a table drawer. In it rested his gun with a few remaining bullets left. He'd need that to protect them. Loading the last of them into a magazine he quietly clicked it into place and nested the barrel in the small of his back. It was now or never, his last chance to set things right.

Maybe the Warden was right all those years ago. Any man that seeks forgiveness for his wrongdoings can indeed find salvation. The sin of lying for someone else was acceptance of someone else's crimes as his own, the suffering he took so one man could walk free brought Alex's life crashing down. He had already accepted his misdeeds. Perhaps with this was last effort he could make peace with everything else. End his wife's suffering of thinking she was in love with a criminal. End his son's torment of thinking his father didn't care for him.

For Alex, his salvation was yet to come, the price being his sweat and blood, and maybe, even his own life.

* * *

_The next day:  
Harvard Lab  
1:00pm_

Time was turning too slow for Olivia as she counted down the hours until Handler would contact her again with a time and place to meet, to bring Ella back home and prosecute the man who ripped her away. It had been exactly twenty-five hours since she heard Ella's angelic voice through the phone.

Twenty-five hours since her last confirmation Ella was alive, and well and seemingly uninjured. For all she knew the girl could be in shock and merely hallucinating, hiding her fear and masking it into something she could find comfort in. Twenty-five hours since Olivia last slept, her eyes heavy with fatigue as she fought to stay awake; since she had swallowed nothing more than a piece of toast, a miniature morsel that wouldn't satisfy a starving mouse. Twenty-five hours since her heart rate jumped well above normal, her senses heightened and put on red alert for anything related to pop up, and for her adrenaline to further skyrocket.

She knew it would be only twenty-three hours until they got Ella back, and until then Olivia couldn't concentrate. She shook with anxiety, with fear for the condition her little girl would be returned in; with anger for the man who dare challenged her to play his game, this psychotic card game of wild aces and high kings; the dice continued to roll and spin for Ella. The risk of snake eyes grew with each ticking minute. It was now or never. All in or nothing.

The last twenty-three remaining hours seemed to never come. Each agonizing second that ticked past her heart rate escalated tenfold and each ring of her phone made her heart come to a screeching halt in anticipation of hearing Handler's gravelly voice again.

Rachel had come into town to stay with her, trying to comfort one another as they both waited and waited for their baby girl to come home, to hear the demands of the kidnapper and murderer who held Ella's delicate life in his hands. Both she and Rachel hadn't slept since Olivia received the call the afternoon before, fueled by emotion, anxiety and nearly two gallons of coffee between them, sleep seemed an impossible feat; both secretly hoping Ella would walk through the door, jump into their arms and tell them of her adventures.

In order to distract herself from the clock Olivia had taken to reading through the files they procured over and over, hoping to pick up some details she had missed and find a spot on her yellow pad to scribble them in. No matter how many times she read through the files they had said the same thing, and revealed nothing further. She even went as far as having Walter re-examine the bodies of the women they had found at the beginning of the case to see if they had missed anything, any speck of DNA, any microscopic strand of hair to give any tell-tale reason why Handler had chosen these women. She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. A knock came at her wooden door frame as her and Peter sat silently, reading through files for the hundredth time.

"Agent Dunham? Peter?"

Olivia recognized that voice immediately, scrunching her brows together curiously at the woman walking into her office, her auburn red hair curling at her shoulders, her aged face smiling at Olivia and Peter

"Nina, what are you doing here?" Olivia asked, slightly confused, glancing towards where Peter sat on the opposite side of the table.

Nine greeted the two with a glowing smile. "I have some information I think you'd be interested to know, Agent Dunham, in regards to David Handler."

Olivia's brows shrunk together questionably. "David? Handler's first name is Alex," she corrected, but Nina shook her head, handing Olivia a file, the words _Massive Dynamic_ printed across it on deep block letters.

Inhaling, Nina spoke, "This is why I came here to speak with you, Agent Dunham. It wasn't until the news stations began to broadcast his picture that the case gained Massive Dynamic's attention. Sixteen years ago, a scientist by the name of Dr. David Handler worked for Massive Dynamic in our division of stem cell research division. While not supported, we were able to fund our own research to run it. Dr. Handler was a brilliant man, and a daring scientist. He worked primarily on cell replication, reproduction as well as duplication."

"Duplication?" Peter said flatly, raising a skeptic eyebrow, "As in… cloning?"

Nina nodded. "You see, Handler was a man on a mission, so to speak. He had a son, Joshua, who had a rare form of blood cancer. By the time it was diagnosed, the cancer had already done its damage. The boy had merely weeks to live, and Handler was devastated, and became crazily obsessed with trying to save his son. Handler preformed all kinds of experiments, different chemicals to combat the cancer but none prevailed, until he began to use his own experiments on his son, the stem cells Massive Dynamic provided. He created an artificial blood supply and tried to grow his own stem cells, but the experiment prevailed on few attempts, long enough to keep his son alive. However a few years later his lab was shut down when his experiments became… _expensive._"

Peter stood up quicker than he thought, turning to Olivia. "That would explain the first victim, the one who had the bone marrow aspiration. What if we've been looking at this all wrong?" He began to pace. "He wasn't killing these women for fun, or for a trophy. The growths Walter found on their intestines? The umbilical cords, the stem cells. Umbilical cord blood. Some Doctors believe cord blood can be used as therapy to treat certain blood or genetic cancers. If his lab got shut down, perhaps he tried his own method of growing it, but instead of artificial blood he used humans."

"But what did these women have in common?" Olivia mused. "And how does this all tie into Alex Handler? Who _is_ he then?"

Astrid stepped slowly into the room. "I believe I can answer your first question, Agent Dunham," she nodded to Nina. "These women he killed, they weren't just random killings, at least not the first one. The first woman, Veronica Marshall, wasn't just some drug addict off the street. She was David Handler's wife and Joshua Handler's mother. He divorced his wife after she was arrested for child endangerment and drug use when he was an infant."

Walter jumped in from behind Astrid, "Handler didn't have the maternal cord blood, at least not the one that could function with the boy. Instead of impregnating her he somehow figured out a way to grow just an umbilical cord to harvest the blood for treatment. Although if his son was dying, maybe he really did try and clone him, preserving the functioning parts to make a… clone, then use the stem cells to fill in the blanks."

"There's something else, Agent Dunham," Nina spoke up. "Cloning his son was no easy feat. You see, in his attempts had very little success on an already severely impaired body, so he began testing on a healthier subject when the boy was five. In one experiment, however, it proved to be successful."

Walter's eyes opened wide. "You mean he _actually_ cloned someone?"

Nina nodded. "Not just anyone, Walter. He cloned himself, and named it David-Alpha. However, the clone came to call himself by a different name."

"Alexander." Olivia finished, stunned at Nina's revelations. "He actually found a way to _clone_ himself?"

Again, Nina nodded. "This did not come without consequences. The clone had rapidly grown into a healthy man in a span of three years, and had developed its own sense of self, his own personality so to speak. When Dr. Handler tried to apprehend his clone Alexander escaped. We tried for months to track him down, but to no avail. It wasn't until he was arrested for rape and a double homicide about five years ago that he began to jeopardize Dr. Handler's name, telling the police, as a sort of bargaining plea about Handler's work here, but our contacts in the government made sure the case was closed. After the beginning of the trials for Alexander, Dr. Handler seemed to drop off the face of the Earth, I haven't heard from him since, that was around eight years ago."

Olivia saw something else in Nina's eyes that made her stand up straight. "There's something else, isn't there, Nina."

She sat slowly in a chair. "Agent Broyles had contacted me about your current… family situation and I couldn't help but get myself involved. I wanted to tell you myself that Massive Dynamic has joined the search for your niece." Olivia's chin rose, signaling she was listening. Leaning forward Nina handed Olivia another file. She opened it slowly, eyes widening at the picture inside. "Massive Dynamic has manufactured millions of highway cameras, capable of picking out particular faces, aiding the law enforcement personnel like yourself in capturing persons of interest."

"Where was this taken?" Olivia breathed quicker, her eyes falling on Ella's stone face in the back seat of the car.

"We picked up both Ella's and Handler's profiles using the facial recognition the software we manufacture, and used an old profile of Handler to track him. It picked these two up just off of I-95, heading north at approximately six this morning. We've been tracking the car since then and it's since stopped at where we believe it be its final destination, here, in Massachusetts."

Peter looked towards Olivia who sat in a silent shock next to him, "Do you have a location?"

Nina nodded, reaching over and moving the first picture aside. "At a warehouse in a town just past the western state boarder, the car hasn't moves since. That is where we believe Alex Handler has your niece. Our ties into the satellites have an indication that she is indeed alive."

In a heartbeat Olivia was running out the door with Peter on her heels and dialing her cell phone to give Broyles the location and her requests for teams. Dashing around the front of the car she threw open the door and the engine roared loudly to life. Peter was just able to make it into the passenger's seat before Olivia drove off in haste, lights and sirens blaring through the streets of Boston.

She was going to bring Ella home today, come hell or high water.

That was a promise she was going to keep…

* * *

_**Author's Note:**__ I hope you enjoyed it, updates to come soon! Is anyone still actually interested in this? I'd really enjoy hearing from you guys! Reviews make the world go round! _


	11. Set You Free

**Author's Note:** I am SO SORRY for not updating sooner! These past two months or so have been absolutely crazy, between studying for an exam and having minor surgery, fear not, I won't let a lapse like this happen again! Please don't hate me!

Anyway, onward! If you need a recap, please do so! I guarantee this chapter, and the next for that matter, will be worth the wait! Reviews make the world go round!

* * *

**Set You Free**

_Ashton Warehouse District  
Midnight_

The car's engine cut quickly as they rounded the corner of the long row of warehouses, painted blue by the midnight sky. Opening the doors quietly, Olivia stepped out and immediately drew her gun, her senses on high alert as Peter stepped out behind her with Astrid and Broyles in toe. Behind her they followed as she hastily made her way towards the front door without delay, her heart pounding at whatever entity lay behind it. Breaking the old, rusty lock was no problem as the chain flew off and landed on the ground with a muffled _shink_. Pushing the door open the four entered the small room and scoped out the perimeter.

Coming up to the opening that leads to the large room, Olivia peered through, and felt her heart speed up, and her breath catch in her throat. Sitting in the center of the room sat two chairs, each facing the other. Behind the furthest chair sat a small table, topped with a backpack and a bag of fast food. But what caught Olivia's attention the most was the small teddy bear that sat on the chair opposite her, quiet and still in the blue tint room.

"Dunham, Bishop," Broyles said, "Take the left. Farnsworth and I will take the right."

With a nod they separated towards their adorning walls, staying just within the perimeter of the shadows of the platforms overhead. Gun raised and eyes set on the chair they crept towards it, searching for any movement in on the room's horizon. Converging on the chairs slowly the four Agents moved their eyes and guns searching the hidden corners of the room for any signs of movement. Without warning, the doors surrounding the room closed quickly, latching loudly making the four move together, huddled back to back and their aim upward.

"Agent Dunham," called a dark voice from above them, echoing into the shadows.

Olivia knew the voice, and knew it well, both her eyes and the barrel of her gun pointed towards the empty scaffolds just overhead. "Show yourself, Handler!" she called, her lips pressed tightly together as he emerged from the shadows, his eyes emotionless making contact with hers.

Looking down, Handler smiled slightly. "I had figured you weren't going to wait until I called, until I could find a more suitable place, but this shall do. In case you haven't noticed I've secured the doors. They will not open until I leave here. We need to have a chat, Agent Dunham; I'm just sorry it has to be like this."

The urge to put a bullet in his head was all too great as she kept her arms locked tight, her body tense and her eyes fierce. "Where is she?" she said behind gritted teeth, her blood beginning to boil.

He tilted his head towards the small beam of pale blue light, "I assure you Ella is safe and in good hands."

Her finger moved over the trigger. One shot, that's all it would take. "That's not good enough. You want my attention, let me see my niece." She snapped her gun back to place. "I don't negotiate with terrorists and murderers," she spat towards Handler.

Handler bowed his head. "In due time, Agent Dunham, you will see her," he nodded once, steady and even. "You have my word. Please, Agent Dunham," Handler said calmly, "I'm not the one you're after in those murders, and I have information to prove it. I know you hear this all the time, but I am innocent. Please. Just listen to what I have to say."

Feeling Peter's eyes on her, she stood frozen staring down the sites of her glock to the pale spot between his eyes. Just one small shot, she knew, right between the eyes and he'd be dead. Moving her finger over the trigger, her breathing froze in place. Still she continued to stare into his dark, empty eyes searching for any reason to fire. But there was a little voice at the back of her mind telling her different. In a surprise move she lowered her gun to waist level and slowly exhaled.

"Start talking, Handler," her voice strange and distant, as the man sighed in relief. "How did you escape from prison under the watchful eye of over a hundred prison guards?"

Handler sighed. "My escape wasn't supposed to be _just _an escape. It was supposed to be an execution."

Peter's face scrunched as he kept his gun trained. "An execution? Odd way to phrase it don't you think?"

Handler shook his head and began pacing the scaffold, the old metal creaking precariously under his weight. "I knew things, things any other inmate would be killed for; secrets about the Warden and his methods of _adjustment _that went beyond the Bible. You see, Agent Dunham, that place is literally _hell_ on Earth. There is an evil lurking beyond those walls than what meets the eye. Go back there for yourself and see. I found that out the hard way."

"Like what?" Olivia asked sharply and quickly. Her patience was wearing thin. "What is he testing?"

Handler escalated his voice higher. "Human testing, Agent Dunham, manipulation of the psyche and desecration of the soul; using willing subjects as test materials for whatever sick experiments the Warden has in store for the week. Sometimes when one goes to the basement, they never come back. Not in the mental aspect of it, at least." He tapped his temple as he leaned on the railing casually, "See, I'm a thinker. I'm an observer. When a man who's built like an iron wall comes back crying and begging for his mother, that's something to take notice of. It was when the questions arose did the Warden drive me out."

"When I began to question his methods, he decided I was dangerous and sent his two minions to threaten me out, to force me to do nothing but escape. I was threatened at gun point to make a run for the south wall. As soon as the sirens sounded, that's when I knew I was in trouble. A second later the bullets rang out, and I did what any human being in that situation would do. I'd make a run for it. But I did something that the Warden didn't expect."

Peter watched in curiosity as Olivia began to lower her gun even more. "You escaped." Peter said and Handler nodded.

Olivia spoke again, low and even. "So where does my niece I fit into your whole scheme of things? What about Ella? An innocent eight year old girl has nothing to do with your accusations of human testing."

His shoulders relaxed slightly. "I needed a way to gain your attention, Agent Dunham. Not the most conventional way, and certainly not what I had intended, but I needed something to peak your interest other than those poor women's fate. Like I told you originally, I have no intention of harming your niece, nor will the thought even cross my mind. I sort of figured waltzing into the Federal Building as an escaped felon would have butchered my plan in asking you for help. I've heard a lot about you."

She raised a steady eyebrow. "How? What do you mean?"

Handler sighed. "Imagine being seven years old, growing up in a household where you never knew your father, the mystery of who he is and what he did. Was he a good baseball player? Did he build cool things? My father was a man I never knew. That wasn't what I wanted for my son. My wife took him to see me when he was two, and that puts a different perspective on life. Did I really want my son growing up thinking his father was a monster? I wanted to change that, Agent Dunham. So a year later I began writing to Jake, and soon enough he began writing back."

Handler smiled as remembering a pleasant memory. "He writes me every two weeks, for almost six months now. Tells me about school, about any projects he's working on, even sends me a few pictures he's drawn. It was career day when he last wrote. Told me all about the other kids in his class and their parents' careers. When he told me about what Ella's Aunt did, how she was a Federal Agent, I knew that could be a way to set things straight. I wish there was an easier way than this, but you have to understand, I didn't mean for it to be this way. I was set up and strung out, Agent Dunham. I didn't kill those women."

Olivia swallowed. "Who is it you think set you up?"

"You already know who it was, Agent." He said, sighing. "A terrorist in human form, named David Handler. My brother. He changed his name a few years ago, however, after nearly going insane himself after his son died. Rather, almost died."

Peter glanced towards Astrid and Broyles. "Almost died?"

Handler nodded again. "Joshua Handler, my nephew, my poor, poor nephew is alive. Not well, but alive in a safe house about twenty miles from the prison. He was something my dear brother could not let go. That's why I believe that the Warden and my brother have teamed up. Dave knew I was imprisoned there, and the Warden is a scumbag who walks this earth. Perfect plan, don't you think?"

Olivia's palms began to sweat as she tracked his smile, catching the hidden meaning behind it. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What is it that you're asking, Handler?"

His cheeks rose in fulfillment. "Go back to the prison, basement level. From there, everything else will unfold. Afterward you'll get your niece back. No loop holes, no more sneaking around. Tomorrow you get the prison, you get Ella, and you get me."

Olivia squinted. "So what are you expecting to get out of this, Handler? Why not just go to the authorities and make a plea?"

Handler sighed. "They say the truth will set you free. I have done my time, reflected on my wrongdoings and will never be able to forgive myself. I had something beautiful and in an act if selfishness and stupidity I threw it all away. Every day I regret not being able to hold my son and tell him I love him. _Every day _I am reminded of why I was thrown here." His chin rose slightly. "This is my way of clearing my conscious. Right one wrong by correcting others. If this is what it takes to correct all those I have hurt, then so be it." Reaching over to the railing he hit a lever, causing a single door to rise and a light to shine through it.

Behind a metal gate stood the body of a small girl, her eyes shining and waving happily as Olivia's name echoed down the small hallway.

Olivia felt her heart sink in her chest. "Ella…" she whispered. In a slow, agonizing pace she began to move towards the accented gate and eventually burst into a run. Holstering her gun she reached through the holes in the metal gate and engulfed Ella in her arms, tears streaming down her face. Breathing in slowly, Olivia ran her fingers through her hair, rubbing her cheeks. "God, Ella, are you alright? Does anything hurt?"

Ella giggled from behind the gate and held Olivia's trembling hands tight. "I'm fine, Aunt Liv. Alex has been taking good care of me," she said smiling, glancing back to the hallway where his face sheepishly immerged from around a corner. "You need to help him, Aunt Liv. He's not a bad guy. He's just… misunderstood. Please. Can you help him?"

Olivia swallowed hard as she knelt at the ground, cupping Ella's small cheek. "I don't know, baby girl," she breathed unevenly. "There's more here going on than you understand or that I have the time to explain."

Ella squeezed Olivia's hands. "I know you can, Aunt Liv. Please." Her request was genuine, and at the same time breaking Olivia's heart. Here she was, separated by a thin piece of metal and all the strength in the world she had was not enough to break down the simple barrier. Behind her Alex cleared his throat slowly. "I need to go now, Aunt Liv." As she began to move Olivia reached beyond the barrier and grabbed her wrist tight.

Her heart stopped. "No, Ella-"

Olivia froze as her whole body went numb, her fingers wrapped tenfold around Ella's small wrist as she stared into her niece's small, shining eyes. Turning, Ella smiled, illuminated by the bright white in the hallway as an aura of spectacular light glowed around her face. Truth be told, she looked like an angel.

Ella smiled, her demeanor calm and warm, almost inviting. "Everything's gonna be fine, Aunt Liv. I need to go. _You need to let go_, Aunt Liv." Olivia could sit there forever and simply stare at the sight before her.

Tears streamed down her face as Olivia felt her blood turned to ice, her heart cease and her breathing turn concrete. One of the hardest things was to watch someone you love turn away knowing they may never be seen again. But it was something in Ella's eyes that put Olivia's trembling hand at rest and the pain in her chest halt. There was no fear behind Ella's eyes, any doubt or suspense that would normally make any adult quake with uncertainty. It was the calmness and tranquility in Ella's eyes that made Olivia do something that surprised even her.

She let go.

Like a breath of wind, Ella's hand slipped from hers and was gone, the air around her fingers suddenly cold and barren as she watched Ella smile and wave, her words muffled as Olivia watched her skip down the hallway and slide her tiny fist into Handler's large palm, and smile upwards at him. Her ears felt full as her head spun, her arm reaching through the gate into emptiness. In the blink of an eye they were gone, the hallway doused black again as the lights were cut off.

A pair of arms slid underneath her and pulled her body upward until she was standing on two feet, the words _breathe, Liv _ghosted across Peter's lips as he pulled her body close to his, wrapping his arms around her waist and whispering inaudible words to her. She swallowed hard, burying her forehead into his shoulder, the tears she had been holding back spilled as she drew in steady, deep breaths trying to calm herself, her fingers digging into the shirt Peter wore.

_She almost had her_. She _almost _had her and like grains of sand, she slipped through her fingers.

"Olivia, listen to me," Peter whispered, caressing her cheek gently. "We know she's okay. She's not hurt; she's not in any pain or not starving. She's going to be fine, Liv."

Olivia nodded against him, licking her dry lips. "I know," she matched his low tone, dusky and cool, "I know she will be. I think that's what scares me the most."

"Agent Dunham," Broyles piped up, "If you need a day to-"

"No," Olivia cut him off quickly, the seriousness back in her stance as she left the comfort of Peter's arms, "What I need is a plane back to Tennessee and a strike team on standby. We're raiding the prison. Midnight tomorrow."

"What makes you think Handler is telling the truth?" Broyles questioned. "Coming from an escaped convict and a murderer, he'd say anything to gain your trust, especially with the collateral he's got between you two."

Olivia turned towards Broyles, a new fire lit inside her spirit. "When Peter and I were at the prison the first time, there was something off, and Handler's statement explains it. If Handler's telling the truth, that may take us one step closer to bringing this psychopath off the streets and bringing Ella home. I can't explain it, but I trust him."

"So why the prison?" Broyles asked.

She bit her tongue hard. "Call it my gut. Handler will be there, with Ella, at a distance. He'd want to see that he was right. That's where they're going. That's what we need to do." With her head held high she made her way towards the exit. "This ends tonight. Come hell or high water, we're taking the prison." Turning sharply on her heels Olivia exited the warehouse, her words dark and deep, echoing off the walls.

"_This ends tonight." _

* * *

_Tennessee State Prison  
7:00am_

It was like any other day that Officer Justin Lever knew. Dress. Breakfast. Teeth. Hair. Tie his shoes. It was a short drive from his house to the gray, haunted walls of the state prison. When he had decided to become a corrections officer, this was _not_ the place he had in mind. He knew, based off what his father had done, that this was not the way it was suppose to be. Instead of being feared, he was fearful.

The secrets, the deceptions, the pure terror that resided inside the ancient stone wall, nestled comfortably between the ground floor and the decayed dirt was a secret he and the other guards had been charged with when they joined, the threat of termination or even death was enough to zip his mouth shut. There was the occasional slip, however. But when that happened, when word had began to spread the one who had heard it never came back from the basement. It wasn't that they were fired, no, far worse. They went to the basement and simply _never came back._

Walking towards the broad iron gate and onto the gravel road leading inward, he drew in a cleansing breath of the safe, sweet Tennessee air beyond these walls in hopes it would last him the day. If the stench of the place wouldn't kill you, he figured, perhaps the food would. Mystery meat was a loose term he would choose. But some days, not eating was probably for the better.

But as he continued his path, the hair on the back of his neck stood straight and his skin chilled, despite the abnormally warm air trapped inside.

The air seemed unusually still; the grounds silent, almost as if a dark shroud had fallen over the grounds and quieted even the least noisy of creatures. A jet black crow flew overhead and landed on a bare tree branch, cawing down at him as his heels slid on the stones, carving precarious pathway to the job he literally called a prison. The air around him was moist, thick and foggy, making his lungs burn as he inhaled, the air around him turning to soot. The prickle of electric heat was enough to make his skin crawl and his stomach churn uneasily, his skin buzz with a feeling that he couldn't quite identify.

There was something different about today, something off.

Opening the massive wooden door, this… _feeling _he had only magnified. The guards' quarters, normally abuzz with activity and gossip were calm, tranquil and strangely empty, setting his own guard on high alert.

Something wasn't just different. Something was wrong.

Securing his personal items in his locker he quickly retrieved his equipment and close door. Fluttering down between the slates of the door an envelope fell, the flap taped and his name written in harsh block letters scribbled on the front. Looking around, he found the room to be empty still as he pulled the flap open and removed a single piece of paper, small, seemingly meaningless words scratched into it. His eyes widened.

_It has begun. _

Drawing in a slow, easy breath, Lever knelt down and removed a piece of loose metal from the bottom his locker. Behind it sat a small, thin metal box, covered in dust and grime. Wiping the lock he clicked it open and removed the gun he kept stored away. Locking a magazine into place he hid the gun on his person and stood just as an announcement echoed through the room, the panic noticeable in the announcer's message.

"_Captain Millan, please report to the Warden's office immediately." _

Following the small sounds of footsteps outside the room Lever secured his belongings back into his hiding spot and followed the sea of black suits in front of him as they rounded a corner quickly and stopped as the Warden stood in silence outside his office. Looking up along the door frame, Lever quickly began to understand why.

Nailed into the wooden door frame just above the door was a black bird, its wings spanned the length of the frame, its dark black eyes turned facing downward, simply gazing darkly at anyone who dared make contact with it. Blood dripped down from the nails holding the dead bird up, streaking down the door of the Warden's office in thick lines. Below it, tied to the tail was a hand written note:

"_And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming. And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted." _

"Nevermore," whispered Lever.

The Warden whipped his head around to face the young officer. "You know what this means" he demanded, making Lever swallow.

"It's from a poem, sir, _The Raven._" He licked his lips, feeling the barrel of the gun press against his lower back prominently. "By Edgar Allan Poe."

"_All personnel please report to the main courtyard. That's repeating, all personnel please report to the main courtyard _immediately." Echoed another panicked announcement.

Returning his gaze momentarily the Warden left Lever standing alone as he followed the crowd of officers yet again outward towards the courtyard as a griping cold began to settle in the hot hallways of the prison. As the group left Lever looked back at the dead crow as it sat silently on its perch overlooking him, its glassy eyes staring back as a shiver ran down his spine.

He made his way towards the courtyard slowly as if in a daze, rounding the corridors just as the other officers began to converge on the same spot, their chatters silenced by the single figure that lay in the middle of the courtyard, gray and motionless. A pool of bright red blood clashing with the green of the grass as it soaked through his uniform, once whites turning crimson reds as the pool slowly expanded.

"Captain Millan," he muttered and looked back towards the sea of faces surrounding him, standing. A sudden fear began to strike through his heart. All around the perimeter the inmates began to circle, gazing upon the site themselves and too fell silent, an occasional mumble running through the crowd.

Written on the dead officer's shirt, blood for ink, were two words that froze in the Warden's mind.

_You're next._

"This," Smithers hollered, pointing towards the body, "Is the work of one of your _friends_," moving his hand to the orange jumpsuits that peered down. "A bounty on his head. Whoever brings him to me will gain his just reward. Find him!" His throat burned as he screamed and the crowd flashed around. Bending down he closed the eyes of his fallen Officer as his hands shook. He knew what this meant. For God's sakes, he knew. Alexander Handler had returned to the prison.

Smithers was sure, he wouldn't have come alone.

* * *

_Tennessee Federal Building  
2:00pm_

Agent Cassidy Helmstetter nodded in rhythm with her footsteps. "Eyes on the prison confirm exactly what you suspected, Agent Dunham," she said as she handed Olivia a file with several photographs, "There has certainly been a change in the normal guard patterns. Instead of carrying the normal batons, some have been loaded with rifles and shotguns. We've been watching them for the past few months, but the intel you've given us certainly sheds new light on this." Helmstetter grinned through her accent. "Must be one hell of a man on the inside you've got."

Olivia nodded. "I won't deny that. How are the prospects of the raid coming so far?"

Turning a corner, Helmstetter pushed open a set of doors to reveal a room full of voices and echoes, and phones ringing off the hook. "We've got so far two twenty person units on standby, and have been working on the four six-person teams you've requested to penetrate and take the prison. We're still getting in contact with other Agents as well as the local PD to help." Turning another corner, Helmstetter opened another small door to a conference room. "You guys can finish up whatever you need in here. If you need anything, my office is right down the hall. Once more logistics come in I'll let you know." She smiled widely at Olivia and Broyles.

"Thank you, Agent," Broyles said as Peter, Astrid and Walter carried in a few briefcases and set them down on the table. Turning towards Olivia as she powered her laptop, he sighed. "Agent Dunham," he said, motioning outside towards the hallway as Olivia followed quietly into a separate room where Broyles closed the door. Turning towards his Agent, he sighed. "I don't want you going on this raid."

Her eyes widened, her voice rising in surprise. "Sir, you can't expect me _not _to go!"

Broyles chose his words carefully. "Dunham, you're too involved in this as it is, putting you in the middle of this is too much collateral I can't risk. I need you here, overseeing the operation, and once we retrieve your niece she'll be brought to you after being assessed by medical personnel."

Olivia shook her head in defiance and placed her hands on her hips. "Handler is expecting me to hold up my part of the deal, to go in there and figure out what the hell is going on. If I don't go, we don't get Ella, plain and simple, and that is something I'm _not _going to risk! Collateral or not, I can't risk losing Handler's trust over this matter. _I won't."_ Lowering her voice, she turned back to him. "This may be our only chance to finish this, and I'm not staying behind. If putting my life on the line means we get Ella, Handler and whoever is out there doing this, then so be it."

With that she left Broyles standing alone in the office door, a defeated grin on his face. He didn't want her to go, that much was true, and he expected her reaction. Every fiber of his being told him to march outside and force her to stay, threaten her with suspension, even termination if she went. She was a commodity he simply couldn't risk. His brain told him to move, but his feet were steady and still, cemented to the ground as he sighed. Dunham was too much to risk being thrown into the mix, but as the reasons began to pour into him to force her to stay, in the back of Broyles' mind he only heard one thought. Olivia Dunham was their only chance. She knew the details of the prison. She had Handler's trust. She was the best Agent for the job. Her niece trusted her.

Glancing up at the clock, he silently counted down the hours until the raid would commence. So close, yet so far away. As he stood and returned to the conference room her words from hours ago echoed throughout his thoughts.

_This ends tonight…_

* * *

_I hope this chapter was worth the wait! Chapter 12 coming soon! Reviews are awesome!_


	12. Into the Abyss

**Author's Note:** Please don't hate me for the cliffhanger!

Anyway, onward! If you need a recap, please do so! I guarantee this chapter will be worth the wait! Reviews make the world go round!

**Into the Abyss**

_Tennessee State Prison  
Sunset_

He stood still, silent, tall and erect, his hands fisted firmly behind his lower back as Warden Smithers watched the sunset before him, the shimmering crest of the yellow-orange sun slowly dip below the line of where the hellish Earth met the heavens. All around him the air began to shake distorted as steam rose from the stone walls that encased his sanctuary; the dark brown walls of his office painted orange and pink as the shadows slowly crept up on him with each passing minute, dark demons stalking their prey as he drew in a steady, deep and eerie breath. The events of only hours before replayed over and over in his mind.

The dead raven nailed, crucified, on his door frame and the snippet of eerie writing that he suspected Alex had a play in, written in ink as dark as the blood that lined his office door. It was red-black, oozing and smelled of sour copper. He could still see the reflection of his wire frames in the inky pupils of the cursed bird, blood dripping like perilous tears from the creature's wings.

His most trusted Officer now lay cold and dead in the basement of the prison, bags of ice lined his torso to help prevent the decay, at least until a viable story could be formed surrounding the Captain's untimely death. Still, the site of him lying in the middle of the courtyard had made Smithers' heart tick with an impending doom of a clock, suspecting that Alex's note would hold true. That he himself, the man who had built this prison from the ground up would indeed fall to the hands of that… _mad man. _

It was that very reason Smithers had arms the guards with guns instead of batons and placed them on patrol outside his walls, quarterly rounds to catch any oncoming invaders into his protected territory. He had guards stationed everywhere. He knew he was secured, but a small, tiny, delicate voice in the back of his mind told him Alexander would be lurking in the shadows, ghostlike and dangerous.

Alexander, his dear Alexander would be out for blood this time. He was a predictable creature; Smithers knew that since he was born. Somewhere inside his walls, he knew Alex was sitting, plotting and planning, sharpening the dulled blade of his knife and simply plotting. Just plotting. Alex would wait for the right moment to strike and take a life for a life. As the sun sank lower, its final display of light left, blanketing the Earth in a blackish-purple shroud, the moon casting a pale blue glow into his already milky cheeks as he stood and watched the surrounding fields in a calm and frightening anticipation.

"Sir," came a voice as he opened the doors, "It's time."

Turning towards the young officer Smithers nodded, glancing out past the window once again. Reaching into his desk drawer he removed a small, black box and carried it close to his person.

All he could do now was wait.

* * *

_Tennessee Federal Building  
11:30pm_

The room above was charged with activity as the moon rose higher over the continuously cooling Tennessee sky. Phones rang off the hook and voices erupted over one another as the tactical team Olivia requested just hours ago began to come into full effect. Members of the local police department's SWAT team as well as the state's tactical division began to converge into the small room, now working under Fringe Division and await further orders. Throwing a few maps up on the projection Broyles took his hint from Olivia and began the debrief of the numerous sources they had coming into help with the sting operation on the prison.

It was going to be smooth, quick and fluent. At least that's the way Olivia hoped it would go down. There was no room for error; the price to be paid if such error was to occur was the life of an innocent eight year old girl, a cherished prize to one of their own. Broyles had made sure each organization knew that. The life of Ella Dunham was in a delicate balance and on the other side the mind of a psychopath. They would enter through the side doors by the cover of night, decked out in full black tactical, guns and bulletproof vests. They didn't know what they would find inside the prison walls, but Broyles was taking no chances.

Nobody was.

The only sound to echo in the dark, damn, dead still of the empty locker room was the slow metal _click _of an unlatching locker door, shattering the glassy silence around her. Olivia sighed heavily, pressing her heated forehead against the smooth, cold metal. Broyles had ordered her not to accompany the team on the raid; she was too much of a commodity to have thrown into the equation to lose, but she had insisted on joining. No. She _demanded _she go. With every ounce of her being, she wanted to be the first gun in and the last bullet out. All she wanted was Ella safe in her arms again, to kiss her forehead and make the nightmares go away.

But in the seemingly vast black space of the locker room Olivia had thrown up twice since word of the raid would commence at midnight, and a sickening feeling washed over her. Sitting alone in the dark her body paralleling the small bench she straddled, a single strand of light highlighted the faded wooden bench. The coolness of the damp air pressed against her already mottled skin as her heart pounded nervously, making Olivia shiver. Sitting in nothing more than her tactical pants and a tank top, she eyed the darkened gray metal of the gun that rested in her palms, her finger sitting subconsciously over the trigger guard, the bullet-packed magazine sat inches from her reach. Running an oiled cloth over her gun always helped her to steady her galloping heartbeat. Slowly up and down the barrel, exhaling with the steady speed she applied.

Wipe up. Breathe in. Wipe down. Breathe out.

It was the mystery in the way she held her body that drew Peter from his perch where he watched her from the shadows of the women's locker room. As she cleaned her gun, a task he had watched her do on many occasions before a raid, Peter slowly walked over to the small stream of light she worked in and straddled the bench across from her. It was no surprise that she didn't move from her spot, sitting stone-like and frozen. There was a jitteriness to her hands that was unfamiliar as she oiled the barrel once again.

Peter swallowed, seeing the nervousness in her hands and the hidden fear in her eyes had made Peter wish he could follow on the raid with her, but that was a strict regulation that no matter how much he fought, it wouldn't change. Slowly he pulled her gun from her hands and set it down behind her, slipping his fingers into hers and planted a small kiss on the back of her hands, rubbing the indent of his lips gently with his thumbs. Her head still hung low, her ponytail falling further over the precipice of her shoulder. Despite the velvet blackness around them, her eyes glowed green, dripping with emerald tears as they cascaded silently to the floor.

There was nothing he could say to comfort her, to make this mission seem as transparent as the others. There was simply _nothing _to comfort her. Despite the thousands of words Peter wanted to say, there were none that could escape his lips. Pressing his forehead against hers Peter pulled Olivia closer, pulling her knees over his thighs and pressing her into his chest. His palms caressed the exposed skin of her back as her lips pressed nonchalantly against his neck, ghosting their existence across his skin; he breathed with her in, slowly and fluently. Despite the silence between them, he knew the conversation without having to utter a word.

_I'm not scared, Peter._ She would say with iron strength, masking a microscopic quiver that shook in her voice.

His silent reply would flow just as easily as even he believe the small white lie. She wasn't scared, he knew that.

Olivia was _terrified_.

He answered her silently. _I know you're not._

Her breath staggered against his chest in the emptiness that encased them, making Peter's shake slightly as well. It was about trust and faith at this point. Trust that Handler had kept his word. Faith that Ella was unharmed. That's all Peter could do and it killed him.

Slowly he raised his hands to her bare shoulders, his thumbs tracing the curve of her neck as he cupped her cheeks, feeling her moist, soft skin beneath his palms Peter's an expected contradiction to the roughness of his palms. No doubt she had been crying, he figured. Turning her eyes back towards him Peter caught her face full in the light. The paleness of her skin, the flushing of her cheeks and her beautiful, emerald doe eyes were dark, faded and reserved. Beneath his fingers he felt her tears begin to fall silently again, decadent jaded waterfalls that made his heart clench.

Holding Olivia in his arms he felt the tension in her body fall away as she drew in a deep breath, calming her. Sometimes, Peter concluded, saying nothing was better than saying anything. A silent exchange of words ironically said more than a ramble of meaningless phrases and punctuations. This case it was true. Out of the thousands of words Peter wanted to say, his throat closed with each syllable he tried to utter. It was an unspoken bond between them, and Peter knew it was what Olivia wanted to hear.

_You're gonna be fine._

But even so, Peter could hear her response and the slight smoky buzz in her voice.

_It's not me I'm worried about. _

She swallowed against his shoulder, bringing her gaze to meet his. Instead of the apprehension and minor hesitation, there was something deeper in her eyes, something brighter that made Peter's heart smile. He knew that look. It was a dangerous, dignified and overwhelmingly confident fire that had since been ignited, the first real fire he had seen in her in the weeks that Ella was taken.

She left his arms and stood without a single word uttered. Removing the bulletproof vest from the open door she slipped it around her, zippering up the front swiftly and adding the black jacket over it, completing her attire. The only visible signal she hadn't blended in with the black was the highlights of her hair and the glow in her face. She moved with a graceful fury that made Peter stand behind her and take a step back to watch the site with pure fascination as she made herself ready for combat.

After dressing she closed her locker door and picked up her gun she had been cleaning when he found her. Clicking the full magazine into place she cocked the top of the barrel into place. _Click clack_. Securing it into its holster, she turned back towards him, catching the worried glaze over his eyes.

He stood the bones in his body creaked and cracked with an unsung apprehension. Peter licked his lips, the words he wished to say sunk in his chest leaving nothing but dry air in his lungs, the words dried and turned to sand. Placing his hands on her cheeks he did the only logical thing he could think of at the time.

He kissed her.

Tracing the muscles of her neck with the tips of his fingers he pressed her between his waist and the metallic wall, swallowing her whole within him. Once, twice, three times his dry, sandpaper lips scratched over hers, swollen and moist from the salty tears that fell. Following the contour of her hips he grabbed hold tightly of the shirt she wore, pulling her closer as her grip tightened on the collar of his shirt, her fingertips making small circles against his cheeks.

Slowly, Peter swallowed. "_'Livia_," he whispered against her lips, dropping the first syllable in her name, trying to get those three small words off his chest. Gently he stroked the delicate skin at the corner of her mouth, a sign of affection and worry.

Olivia nodded, whispering back. "I know." Closing her locker for the final time she turned to him again, hooking her safety glasses onto her shoulder. In the seriousness of her face, she offered him a small, subtle smile and her hand as they left the quietness of the room and headed upstairs to where the team has assembled, ready and waiting.

* * *

_Midnight_

_Three. _

The night sky above them was sprinkled with stars, trapped in black velvet and cast a glowing pale, white light on a single file line of black vans as they stopped five-hundred yards from their intended target, with the walls of the prison lurking at the end point of their vision, haunting black, vast giants of rock and sand with the intention of keeping anything out. One by one each truck full emptied out quietly, their assembled team exited the vehicles and formed a single file line behind one another. Spanned out across a fifty-foot interval another truck vacated its passengers, also falling into line.

_Two._

Crouched low and weapons high the numerous teams began to converge on their firing point, falling into the shadows of the concrete barrier. Some threw ropes over the top, others outlined the frame of a built in gate, keeping an eye out as they quietly removed the hinges and funneled in through the small opening, bottle necking and spanning once inside, forming a linear bold line all around the prison, with a break at the door.

"_Security cameras are disabled," _came the voice through the earpiece.

Glancing around her, Olivia drew in a heavy breath as she gripped the handle of her gun tight, and closed her eyes.

_One. _

With the furious blast of agility and strength, the wooden doors splintered open as the raid began, the ghost-like figured began to converge all at once. All around them, the darkness came to life as the shadows of figures began to move. Breaking through the front door Olivia's team, as well as the two teams behind her fanned out wide as they surprised the guards, ordering for weapons to be dropped and to get on the ground. The silent walls around them as they made their way through the front doors of the prison vibrated with life as their voices echoed the departments they worked for.

Expressions of fear, anxiety and pure surprise began to flood the faces of the guards, both armed and unarmed as they looked to one another, unsure of what to do. Black ghosts of the FBI began to file in all around them, securing each hallway around them. Sparks of gunshots rang out into the quiet night as those brave enough to fire were brought down quickly by the Agents. One by one they took the floors and proceeded out into the vast courtyard, through the faded green grass and converged on the large white stone fountain that lay dormant and dry.

Sitting on the ledge sat a man, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, a grin on his face. Moving a piece of dark, greasy hair from his eyes, he searched for the face he had been waiting for. As the two teams molded into one, Olivia swiped her black mask from her face, her hair falling into place behind her.

"Agent Dunham," he said, smiling. "Glad you could make it."

She kept her barrel pointed at his forehead. "You've got us here now, Handler, where is she?"

Handler stood slowly. "In due time, Agent Dunham, there's something you need to see first." Reaching upwards he grabbed the bow of the stone Angel that stared into the heavens. "This place is filled with underground tunnels and caverns. This is just the back way to what I told you about." As he pulled down, the sound of stone grinding against stone caught her attention as the base of the fountain opened, revealing a pathway going down underground.

Hesitantly, Olivia stared into it. Clicking on a flashlight, Handler motioned for Olivia and company to follow. Taking the lead behind him she obliged, her aim focused just above his shoulder. Ahead of them another light flashed as footsteps echoed up the descending stone stairs and voices rang out in the musty dark. As the continued their spiraling dissension a gunshot rang out, causing Olivia to pull Handler behind her. Taking cover at the end of the stairs, behind the two walls of the frame, she and two other Agents aimed and fired, taking down the three guards with ease and continued their journey downward.

Turning left and down a slight ramp they came to an open room, the site making the team stop dead in their tracks. The room was the size of a high school gymnasium, with high ceilings and cracked floors. At least a dozen chemistry sets outlined the room, many with an auburn liquid still cooling. On the walls were cuffs and more chains, embedded into the walls. Getting a closer look, she ran the tips of her fingers down the marks near them. Fingernails, she deduced. Several hospital beds, computers and technology Olivia did not recognize plagued the floors, as well as blood splatters and chains, attached to the rails of the beds. On those beds sat the bodies of several men, cold and silent. Their abdomens had portions of skin removed, right down to the pelvic bones.

"What is this place?" she whispered as they fanned out, checking each corpse for any sign of life.

Handler sighed. "This, Agent Dunham, is where the evil happens." Walking over to a familiar face, he closed the petrified man's eyes and swallowed. "These men were guilty, and yet innocently their lives were taken. I know in prison one does not make friends, but here," he whispered, "I had made companions, and many of them were lost here. The Warden and my… _brother _were working together to help heal my nephew. They destroyed many lives in order to save just one who would be better off not living in the hell he has had to endure. David… he just couldn't let go."

Olivia turned, eying the man who stood in front of the corpse that he called friend. A sudden sorrow for Alex Handler began to creep into the icy portions of her heart as he continued, expanding on the information he revealed that night in the warehouse.

"Joshua was sicker," he mused, walking around the stone room and visiting each face he knew. "Suffering from a rare disease that David had put his heart and soul into curing but alas, his efforts yielded nothing. Then, he created me," his voice cracked, "A _sick, genetic joke_, a poor excuse for replication in order to cure the one thing in his life that meant everything." Turning towards Olivia, he swallowed. "I never meant to bring harm to this world, Agent Dunham, I trust you know that by now. This is what I wanted to show you, for you to understand that I may be guilty of other things, but this," he motioned, "The only thing I am guilty of is trying to put a stop to these souls they are taking here. You held up your end of the bargain. Now, I'll hold up mine," he said and turned down another hallway, motioning again for Olivia to follow.

Nodding to the team behind her they followed, weapons trained behind him as Handler led them down another corridor and followed an upward slant. Minutes later they opened into another clearing, a different courtyard opening up just beyond another iron fence, separating their location from the front wall. He held up a hand to steady his followers as he moved to the outline of the remnants of a well and removed the wooden stopper. Disappearing for a second into the hole, Olivia watched and waited. Seconds later two small hands appeared over the stone and concrete wall, the head of a small child bobbed up and down as Handler emerged.

The shining eyes of Ella Dunham caught sight of the sea of black uniforms and smiled, "Aunt Liv!" she hollered with a smile and jumped from the small wall, galloping towards the spot where Olivia stood.

Olivia's eyes welled as she holstered her gun and met her niece half way, picking the small girl up in her arms and holding Ella close, and whispered her name, running her fingers through her hair and planting adorning kisses on the girl's small cheeks. Kneeling down Olivia couldn't help the cascade of tears that fell from her eyes as she moved a piece of stray hair from her face and simply gazed upon the site before her.

"Ella," she half cried, half laughed, "Oh God, I was so worried about you, baby girl."

Ella smiled, wiping Olivia's face dry of tears and spoke, "I told you, Aunt Liv, you had nothing to worry about," she turned back to Alex as he walked over and smiled again, the man sheepishly bowing his head and placed his hands in his pockets, "He took great care of me. Even let me stay up late and watch movies." Glancing behind Olivia's shoulders Ella left her arms again and dashed behind her as Peter hopped the iron fence and made his way through the dozen people that Olivia had following. Happily he scooped her up in his arms and continued to make his way towards where Olivia and Alex stood.

Slowly the group made their way back to the main courtyard, cutting through the prison halls in order to avoid exposing Ella to the mischief that rested just thirty feel below the surface. It was surreal for her, having her girl back and with no harm done. Despite all the thoughts about him Olivia had stored, the grudge against him as melted as soon as Ella hit her arms. Maybe there was some good left in him after all.

Rounding the corner and exiting out into the main courtyard, Olivia turned back to Handler who still had a shy grin on his face. "I was wrong, Alex, to doubt you in all of this. Thank you," she said, extending her hand. "I've put in a request to have your crimes pardoned and your jail time reduced. Looks like you'll be seeing your son sooner than you thought."

"I wouldn't count on that."

Without warning a gunshot thundered through the air, a red-hot bullet went zipping past Olivia's neck as it broke skin and landed straight in Alex's chest, blood splattering like paint over her black vest. One after another gunshots broke the calmness of the air and ricocheted around them, some landed in his battered body until he had two holes in his chest and blood pouring out like waterfalls. Around her two other Agents' were taken to the ground by gunfire, their bodies falling like weights to the ground.

Pulling Alex back into the hallway for protection she turned and drew her weapon, and found the assailant; a man ducked behind a stone statue with a smoking gun in hand. Before she could pull the trigger was face down on the ground as the butt of a rifle was slammed into the back of her head and again thrown across her forehead as two imposters on her team turned, slashing her forehead open and making her taste blood. Rolling over slowly her head spun in circles as her vision blurred.

Pain radiated down her head to her body as she felt her body go limp, the edge of consciousness fading in and out as she fell, sinking slowly into a dark abyss, outlined by the shouts of her name from Ella's terrified voice and her name swimming in her head.

"Agent Dunham," said Warden Smithers, smoking gun in hand, standing over Olivia with a slick, greasy smile over his thin mustache. "So happy to see you again."

Her arms, weighted like concrete fell to her side as a shadow fell across her blood-stained eyes, the heel of a boot connected with her face as she slipped over the edge and falling into a blood-soaked darkness…

* * *

_How's THAT for a cliffhanger! I couldn't leave it to be all happy now… hehe… reviews make the world go round, let me know how you enjoyed this! Updates soon! _


	13. Ten Thirteen

_**Author's Note: **__How's that for an update! Two weeks, I think that's my best record yet! Thank you to those who have stuck it out throughout this entire ride! I present the second to last chapter! Reviews welcome!_

**Ten-Thirteen**

The first thing he felt was the pain. It awakened him from a dark, stinging sleep of unknown origin. It was the type of pain that had no beginning, but simply was there; a throbbing, searing, scorching hot fire that burned through every aspect of his body, his blood flowing like molten lava through his veins. _Everything_ hurt. His head, his arms, legs, fingernails, even his eyelashes felt as if they were lit with a match. Blood pooled in his mouth as his senses started to come to. Copper and iron mixed with salt and saliva as he lifted his head from the cold concrete and spit out the glob of coagulated liquid slowly oozing from the bite mark on his tongue and cheek. His hands felt heavy, wiping a line of pink tinged drool from his lip as he gazed along the flat concrete underneath him, waiting for the fog to clear from his vision.

What the _hell_ happened to him? Last Peter remembered he was standing outside with Broyles and a few other FBI Agents as they waited for Olivia and Handler to clear. He blinked, collapsing into the ground again as his muscles gave out. His memory was foggy, no doubt from the steadily accumulating concussion he must have. Ever so carefully he searched his mind for the answer to how he had awoken in a dank and moist stone carved cavern.

His hazy, lopsided vision caught sight of another body twenty or so feet from where he rested. A bloodied hand and battered face lay quietly across from him; her blonde hair was matted and soaked with blood from the large gash on her forehead and her cheek, crusted and coated with dirt, her black clothes spotted with wet crimson stains as one word came to his fuzzy mind, his eyes widening in realization.

_Olivia…_

Suddenly, the memories came flying back, making his head pound harder. He was talking with Broyles going over the details of the raid when suddenly gun shots rang out from beyond the prison walls and the panicked voice coming over the radio. Shouts of "_Ten-thirteen! Ten-thirteen, officer down!" _cut through the buzzing static. He remembered running faster than the wind at the sound of the transmission and pulled his gun from his lower back. As he ran into the courtyard he caught sight of Olivia's collapsed silhouette being pummeled by tall men and a gun pointed towards her head. Peter pulled the trigger, sending bullets flying. As he rounded another corner, he ran straight into the butt of a gun. Once, twice, and the third knocked him out cold.

Using whatever energy Peter could muster he brought his weight on his arms and rolled onto his back, his bones creaking and grinding as he drew in a sharp breath and felt his head swim, waves rolling back and forth as he flipped over and closed his eyes, begging for the rocking motions to stop. Propping himself up slowly he made his way over to where Olivia's unconscious body lay prone, quiet, and cold beneath his worried hands. Slowly, carefully he turned her over onto her back, her body limp in his arms.

"Olivia…" he rasped against a sandpaper throat, caressing her cheek gently. "Oliv-" his voice cut off as he moved a piece of blood-matted hair from her forehead, revealing the open, bleeding flesh wounds she endured. Tears pools in his eyes as a sudden shot of fear and adrenaline flooded his system. "Olivia," he said as his voice became stronger and gave her a gentle shake. Placing his mouth across hers he gave her a gentle breath, his lips begging for any life to show but none came. Moving his fingers to her bruised neck he found what he desperately wished was there. A pulse. It was rapid, faint and extremely weak, but it was there. Beneath his hands, her chest rose slowly and with a harrowing shallowness that only sent more quivers through his heart. It wasn't much, but it was there.

"She put up one hell of a fight," came a voice from the shadows, thick and dark, "But in the end, she was overpowered. Of course your little _stunt_ didn't help either."

"What did you do to her?" he glanced towards Olivia, bruises beginning to develop across her face. "I said what the _hell _did you do to her?" Peter screamed, his voice echoing angrily against the stone walls. There was no response this time. Peter's hands shook as he fought to pull Olivia's gun from her holster and aimed it towards the darker parts of the room as he hovered protectively over her. As he tensed the pain intensified, burning his muscles at the weight of the glock and his head pounded, his vision tilting from one side to the other.

"Come now, Mr. Bishop, let's not have any of that. I'm sure you wouldn't want Agent Dunham's little girl harmed," Warden Smithers said as he emerged from the shadows with a panicked Ella in his arms, his hand over her mouth as she struggled, her eyes wide with fear as she stared at Peter, silently begging him for help as Smithers smoothed the hair on her head. She called her Aunt's name and cried, but still no response.

His pulse screamed in his ears. "Why… are you… doing… this?" he panted between painful breaths.

Smithers tightened his hold of Ella who let out a muffled cry in his hand. "Why, Mr. Bishop is a single phrase that does not come near my intensions. I have been robbed, Peter, and I intend to get back what I lost."

Peter huffed, the gun dancing around his line of vision as he fought off an agonizing desire to fall unconscious. "You mean stealing the lives of innocent people. Mothers, daughters, children. Innocent people-"

"Those _people_," Smithers spat, "Aren't as innocent as you expect them to be. In that aspect, you are _wrong_. I have done nothing wrong here, except to put them out of misery."

"You… experiments and dissected them like they were lab rats. No matter what the crime, no one deserves to live their final days like that." Peter said. "In this case, the punishment is undeserved." He cringed, feeling his ribs grind against another. Beneath his grounded hand, he felt Olivia stir slightly, her breath pick up speed across his skin. "So what sadistic, inhuman joy did you get out of this, Smithers? I thought you were a man of God," Peter chuckled, his vision blurring, "Some follower you turned out to be."

Smithers straightened; obviously Peter had struck a sour chord. "I am a man of God, Mr. Bishop, but He has done nothing for me. He robbed me of everything I loved in my life!"

Peter shook his head. "So that justifies taking the life of one another… to fill that hole He has taken from you."

Smithers sat stone faced as he pulled a gun from his waist and pressed the barrel into Ella's head, causing Peter's smirk to drop. "You can never understand what has been taken from me," he said darkly, his eyes dropping into the shadows. "In order to so, perhaps you need a demonstration. So here, Mr. Bishop, I give you an option. You chose who dies."

The next thing Peter knew he had a knee shoved into his back and his arms pulled behind him as two men dressed in black forced Peter to his knees and threw a punch at his gut. Two other men grabbed Olivia's limp body and pulled her towards Smithers, who caressed her battered cheek, smiling and glancing at Peter. Throwing Ella to another set of arms Smithers made his way towards where Olivia was perched precariously by the two guards. He clicked the bullet into place and held the barrel to her temple.

"_You chose_."

Ever muscle in Peter's body shook as nervous tears began to pool at the corners of his mouth. Adrenaline pumped faster as he tried to think of something. _Anything_. With every ounce of energy he could muster he tried to shake himself free but found his efforts futile. His body and mind were drained, petrified by the gun held to Olivia's temple as Smithers stared Peter down, his face stone and emotionless.

"My patience is wearing thin, Mr. Bishop. Choose. Your girlfriend or the child. If not, I'll choose for you. Subject this poor creature," he motioned towards Ella, "to witness the death of her Aunt, or save the child and lose Agent Dunham. Your time is running out."

"Me," Peter said, his voice quivering, "Take me, leave them out of this."

"That is not an option, Mr. Bishop. My patience continues to wear out; make your choice!"

The next ten seconds felt like a lifetime moving in slow for Peter; his hearing faded out and his eyes saw bursts of yellow, green and purple as he held his breath. Tightening his grip on the trigger Smithers' face tensed with frustration as he continued to aim at Olivia's head. His words were inaudible as Peter felt himself stop breathing.

A single gunshot rang out across the stone room they stood in as Peter turned his head away from the thunderous sound and his nose burned of gun powder, heated metal and blood. He remembered screaming Olivia's name, loud and with any hopes it would awaken her. His own voice seemed distant as his heart stopped at the sight of her body collapsing to the ground.

The guard on her right collapsed with her, a single trail of blood falling from the exit wound in his forehead, his eyes gazing unforgiving at the ceiling as he fell to the ground with a solid _thud_. In the blink of an eye the guard on her right fell as two bullets grazed his skin; one entering his chest and the other his head. More bullets rang out the guard holding Ella fell, as well as the two guards holding Peter, bullet holes pierced their bodies as they fell to the ground lifeless, relinquishing their hold of him.

Black spots plagued Peter's vision as he finally let out the breath he had been holding and sighed in relief, a displaced chuckle in his voice. He should never have doubted it.

With every ounce of energy left, Olivia stood tall and firm with the dead guard's gun in her hand, her face set and eyes dangerous. She stumbled slightly but kept her ground, arms locked and eyes loaded, firing bright green bullets where Smithers stood, his face frozen with shock. She wasn't as unconscious as she led herself to be.

"Drop. Your. Gun." Olivia punctuated her voice stone-like and unmoving. "Give it up, Smithers. It's over."

Reaching behind him Peter grabbed an abandoned glock and moved to his feet, pointing a second barrel at Smithers where he stood, his focus jumping between the two as confused plagued his face. He reached down for Ella where she crouched and pulled her back into his arms, the barrel of his gun pointed at her temple.

"Let her go, Smithers," Olivia warned his eyes between the sites of the gun, "She's not part of this."

Despite the circumstances, he laughed nervously. "On the contrary, Agent Dunham, she's just a part of this as you, Bishop and my genetic _joke_ of a brother is."

Another gunshot rang out as it nailed Smithers in the leg, causing him to scream and curse, trying to keep his composure as he glanced towards the door and his face dropped.

"Long time to see, brother," said a deep, raspy voice, pain evident in his face. "I think it's safe to say this time, you've lost."

Standing by the entrance stood Alexander Handler, blood soaked his clothes and a single smoking barrel in his hands as he limped towards where Smithers clutched Ella and the grips of the gun tightly, unsure of who to turn his focus to next.

Peter's mind began to tick. "Brother?" He called, glancing between Alex and Smithers.

Alex nodded, turning his attention back towards Smithers. "Tell them, Davey. Tell them how you stole the Warden's identity and dropped him into a concrete filled oil drum, changed your face because you couldn't stand to resemble yourself to me. Tell them how you killed those women in order to save your dying son, and used these inmates for genetic experimentation. Let's face it, Josh was better off being let go. You _tortured _that poor kid with life when all he wanted to do was move on. Tell them how you set me up. Tell them," he said fiercely, walking forward slowly, "Tell them how you planned to execute me. But like always, your plan failed right at the very end."

Peter glanced to his right at Olivia, she stood frozen and fierce, her eyes trained on Smithers.

"You didn't account for me going to the authorities until it was too late. I lead them right to you. You're always saying how God helps those who help themselves. You try to play Him, to defy Him, when all along you betrayed Him. You want to kill at least one more person, David then kill me. You're already half way there, so finish the job. Send me off knowing you've just got more blood on your hands. But what you're doing won't save your boy." Alex drew in a deep breath, "Then tell Josh about the bloodshed you spread to save his life. I may have caused harm in my life, but this is my way to righting that wrong. You'll be haunted with your actions. At least my conscious will be clear."

Smithers stood, mouth open wide as he glanced between the three armed personnel, his mind turning with what to do next. "So be it." He whipped the gun west and fired towards Handler, throwing at least three more rounds into his body.

Stumbling back, Alex fought to stay up, his voice rasping as his chest bubbled from the bullet wounds.

"Why won't you die?" Smithers screamed in panic as Alex walked towards him slowly, a trail of blood outlining his footsteps.

"I… was an idea," he said between dying gasps, gazing deeply into his brother's petrified eyes. "And ideas are bulletproof."

Smithers squeezed the trigger again, but not before Alex unloaded another few rounds into Smithers' body, spray of blood across his torso. With his grip free of Ella she ran towards where Olivia stood and crouched, wrapping her in her arms and covering her ears from the gunfire as she cried. _Zip zip zip _they flew by as he stepped back, finally finding ground against the wall, the gun falling from his hands. With a shallow _thump _he slid and landed, gasping for air as he felt his lungs fill with fluid, pink froth foaming from his mouth. A second later his head tilted and all movements ceased.

For a brief moment Olivia and Peter stood still. Holstering her gun Olivia wrapped both arms around Ella as she sobbed in her Aunt's arms. Olivia swallowed hard, tears and blood stinging her eyes. "I've got you, baby girl. You're okay, honey. You're safe. God, finally, you're safe." A few feet away, Alex groaned. Moving Ella into Peter's welcoming arms Olivia walked slowly over to where Alex laid, his body trembling as blood oozed from his open wounds.

She bit her trembling lip, seeing the light leaving his eyes. "Alex," her voice quivered, "Thank you. For… everything."

"Tell… tell…" he gurgled, his hands and feet going cold, his skin gray.

Olivia nodded, holding his icy hand in hers. "I will. Jake will know what a hero his father was, I promise."

Forcing a smile, Alex's body shuddered again as his arms and legs went limp; his blood ran dry, his clothes a sticky crimson maroon and his skin pale, ashen gray. His eyes seemed to fade as the life drained from his heart. With a final breath, he relaxed, staring aimlessly upward. With a heavy heart Olivia reached over and closed his eyes and said a small prayer. Alexander Handler lay before her, bullets riddled in his body for the same of saving a life, he gave his own. That, Olivia could never say enough thanks for.

"God speed," she whispered, and returned to where Ella and Peter sat, picking her niece up in her arms and turning her away from the sight of Alex's body, whispering sweet and calming sighs into her ears, comforting the small girl in her arms. Next to her, Peter stood close, pressing his forehead against Olivia's shoulder and silently thanking whatever entity had been watching over him.

Heavy footsteps began to echo down the stone corridor as flashlights and the barrels of rifles came into view as the team called their agency's name, bright and bold letters stating FBI shone in a pale yellow, voices Olivia instantly recognized as friendly. Behind them Paramedics in bulletproof vests followed and separated, attending to their own patient. Moving from Handler's body to Smithers, they soon arrived to Peter and Olivia, assisting them to a standing position and escorted them outside into the black and purple Tennessee night.

* * *

It took almost an hour to clear the three of them-Ella, Peter and Olivia, with Ella going first. She sat on the stretcher of the ambulance with Olivia at her side, holding the girl's hand as they assessed her vitals and began an IV drip of saline to counteract a mild dehydration and splinted her wrist. With a comfortable smile Ella closed her eyes, the mild medication she was given put her into a peaceful nap until Olivia was released from the scene; she stepped out and drew in a painful, but cleansing breath. Leaning against the side of the truck she sighed. A moment of peace by herself was what she needed.

"Shouldn't you be in another bus?" Peter asked, rounding the front and grinned at her through the flashing red and blue strobes.

Olivia grinned as he leaned next to her. "I could ask you the same question. You took a pretty bad beating."

"You should look in the mirror then," he chuckled, referencing to the blotches of bruises on her cheeks and the numerous butterfly bandages that criss-crossed her forehead. "I'll be fine. How's Ella"?

She licked her dry lips, glancing towards the scene where Smithers' body was being brought out, wrapped in a body bag, then back to him. "The Medics think she's fine, other than a mild case of dehydration and maybe a broken wrist, but other than that, she'll be okay. They gave her something for the pain and are standing by until I'm released. They want to transport her just to be safe."

"What about you? What'd they say about you?" He asked.

Olivia nodded. "I told them take care of Ella first, I'll get evaluated at the hospital."

Peter chuckled. "Normally I'd argue the point, but I know that's going to be moot anyway." But in a flash, his grin faded as he rubbed the bruise on his lip uneasily. Moving closer to her, he raised a hand to caress her bruised cheek, the matching scars on his made them a perfect pair. "Listen, Liv… I…" he stuttered, pressing his lips together Peter let out a long held sigh. "You…"

The expression on his face was all to clear to her. "You thought I really was dead, didn't you?" she asked curiously, leaning her head against the side of the ambulance, cocking it slightly as to have the flashing lights reflect from her eyes.

"Well you put on a damn good performance," he huffed, his voice dropping an octave. "I… I thought I lost you." At that statement, Olivia's cocky grin faded at Peter's expression. It was a mixture of sorrow, joy and… something else. "And, it kind of makes you wonder what the world would be like without that person in your life that makes you feel… complete." He moved in front of her, his palms encasing her neck and his thumbs rubbing the smooth skin over the corners of her lips as he stared into her shining emerald eyes, colliding even further with the blue of his, sparkling in the night. He felt her shutter beneath his hands.

"I _really_ think you need to be check out again, Peter," she breathed, her lungs ceasing immediately in anticipation of what he was going to say.

"Would you just _listen _to what I'm trying to tell you, Olivia?" He asked forcefully, silencing her where she stood, pressed between him and the ambulance. "When I saw you lying there, I thought for a moment I had died with you, and that made me realize that I can't stand to be without you, and before I don't get a chance to say it..." He paused, gazing deeply into her jaded eyes. "I love you, Olivia Dunham." Peter whispered, ghosting his lips across hers before sealing his words tightly, "_I love you."_ Pressing his lips firmly against hers Peter kissed her, feeling growing moisture between their skins, her hands resting on his chest over his pounding heart.

"You love me," she muttered against his lips, feeling Peter smile as he nodded, "Or are you using all that pent up adrenaline to try and get laid later? Chocking that old wives tale of how the sex is better after an intense situation?" He kissed her again in the secluded shadow the ambulance cast.

"Maybe a little bit of both," Peter admitted with an unbashful shrug, pressing his forehead against hers.

Olivia chucked, "I thought so." Gripping his shirt in her hands she pulled Peter closer, pressing another engaging kiss to him, whispering into his lips, _"I love you."_

Someone cleared their throat, making Peter pull away and glance towards the interrupting noise. He felt Olivia laugh into his chest as she blushed a bright red. Standing tall towards the back of the ambulance Broyles stood with a neutral expression on his face, and tried not to roll his eyes.

"_Agent_ Dunham," Broyles said in true Broyles fashion, "Peter, I need you to come with me. Time to give your statements and speak with the medical examiners." As quick as he came Broyles turned and let the smile he was trying to hide the smile force itself across his cheeks.

Olivia forced her eyes down and blushed sheepishly as she slipped away from the warmth of Peter's chest, letting her fingers travel down his arm to lace into his. Peter grinned as he followed her to where the two body bags now sat side by side on the stretcher. One by one they gave their account of the shoot out, trying to pinpoint distances and approximate rounds that were fired in correspondence with the rounds counted between the two bodies.

What even the Agents standing in front of them failed to notice was the slow creep of one of the zippers on the bags and a bloodied, torn hand reaching through with a miniature pistol in grasp. Slowly, Smithers pulled the zipper open until it was just enough room to maneuver. Aiming towards the Agent in front of him, he aimed.

Olivia spoke, placing an X over the schematic. "After Handler fired, what I think was ten or eleven rounds was when Smithers was killed, landing here-"

A gunshot rang through the air as the Smithers bolted upright, his gun aimed directly at Olivia's wide eyes. She reached for her glock and drew, firing a shot between Smithers' eyes, a dime-sized headshot that made him fall over onto the ground haphazardly.

"I thought you said he was dead?" Broyles hollered towards the ducking Agents who looked around confused.

Olivia holstered her weapon. "If it wasn't before, he is now. Lucky he's a crappy shot."

Behind her, Peter chuckled. "I won't say that."

Turning around Olivia felt her blood run cold as a euphoric smile crept across his face, his hand over his right chest. Peter chuckled uncharacteristically, blood oozing out between his fingertips as he looked towards her, eyes staring into the distance, color draining from them quickly.

"Peter…" Olivia trailed as the panic within her rose. He offered her one more smile before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed. "Oh God, Peter! Get a medic, he's been shot!" Her whole body trembled as Olivia knelt above him, pressed her hand firmly against the gurgling wound, hot blood pouring out between her fingers. His lips went pale as his breathing hitched in his chest, bubbling from the wound.

"Hey," he coughed quietly, silver tears cascading from his eyes, his fingers leaving a blood-stained handprint upon her cheek, "You're gonna be fine, Liv."

"Peter, Peter…" she chanted as he slipped into unconsciousness, "Peter, stay with me." His body went limp in her arms as the Paramedics arrived within seconds. "_Peter!_" she screamed as tears rolled down her eyes, his face expressionless and increasingly pale.

In the blink of an eye Peter was strapped into a long board and intubated, IVs running wide open as the Medics pushed fluid into his veins hoping to avoid a complete circulatory collapse. Hemorrhagic shock, Olivia knew, could do that. Lights flashed and sirens blared as the ambulance barreled down the road towards a landing zone where a helicopter had been landed. Behind the ambulance Olivia followed in an SUV, her hands gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.

As the pre-flight preparations began she watched helplessly as they loaded him into the back of the helicopter and transferred the EKG leads to the onboard setup. Bright white lights blared around her from the chopper's blades picked up speed, sending wind, dust and grass into a swirling vortex at the bottom, her standing at its base. Shielding her eyes she watched the helicopter take off in a northern pattern, its lights diminishing as it headed towards the horizon.

Olivia stood there as her heart sunk into her feet. She knelt on the ground and watched as it disappeared from her line of sight, leaving her alone once again with nothing before her but a dark purple Tennessee sky. She drew in a tear-lined breath and swallowed. "You're gonna be fine," she whispered into the night sky, her lungs burning as if the bullet pierced her chest as well, ripping a gigantic hole in her heart. "You're gonna be fine…"

"Please, God, let him be okay," she sobbed towards the heavens.

In her head she could hear Peter's smooth, velvet voice repeating the mantra as he smiled; that had always been her anchor, her tether, and the final words Peter Bishop would speak.

"_Olivia... you're gonna be fine…" _

* * *

_Chapter 14 coming soon…_


	14. To Die a Hero

**Author****'****s**** Note:**I cannot express my thanks enough to those of you who have stuck with me through my first Fringe fic and reviewed, you guys are AWESOME! I had a lot of fun writing this story, and you guys are my inspiration to keep on going. Thank you so much for your support, and I do hope you enjoyed this as much as I loved writing it. Reviews, as always, are welcome. If you haven't left one yet, please do and let me know how you liked it!

Without further adieu, I present the final chapter of "_Crash __into __You.__" _

* * *

**To Die a Hero**

"_How bad is he?" Olivia begged with blood shot eyes. _

_Doctor Seville sighed as he saw the desperation in Olivia's tear stricken and swollen cheeks. He sighed with a heavy heart. "He's got a hemothorax on the right side with significant tracheal deviation and a minor brain bleed, a punctured lung from the gun shot, a few broken ribs and a dislocated hip. He's lost a significant amount of blood, with hemorrhagic shock setting in but we were able to stabilize that. The paramedics report he crashed twice in the chopper, but they were able to bring him back and establish a pulse. We gave him almost six liters of fluid and a blood transfusion. All we can do now, Agent Dunham is wait." _

Slowly Olivia dropped to her knees, the cold, moist ground made small circles on the front of her pants, the toes of her boots digging into the frozen grass around her. It had been a two weeks since they returned from Tennessee, the conclusion to a seemingly terrifying past few weeks had all boiled down to the finale she had hoped for in the end. It was two weeks since Ella was back happily in her arms, the smile she always remembered still on her shining face, and the light back in Rachel's eyes. It was rough, she wouldn't deny. Hell, it had been the fight of her life, and a battle she was proud to have fought and conquered.

But that fight was not without its casualties.

It had been a two long weeks since the man she first loathed had turned into the man that saved her life, had last gazed up at the night sky. In a final attempt to set his soul free, Alex had given his final breath and died afterwards; a noble sacrifice that was not without recognition. Keeping her promise Olivia had been working with Broyles to put Alex's name back in good standing, another battle she was prepared to fight.

"_How long?" she asked the Doctor as her voice quivered, her eyes glancing in on Peter's motionless body in the bed, the ventilator sighing as it breathed for him. _

_Dr. Seville sighed, following her gaze into Peter's room. "The next twenty-four hours we'll know. On a positive note, the surgery went well. We were able to repair the damage to his lung and will begin slowly inflate it once his chest cavity has drained enough fluid to begin it safety. He's suffered a major trauma, Agent Dunham, and with the swelling we've seen on his CAT scan, I'll be honest, his odds of survival aren't high, and I won't lie to you." _

_She swallowed the words she didn't want to hear and spoke in hushed tones, her voice barely above a whisper. "We've beat odds worse than this before, Doctor. Peter's strong. He can beat this." _

_Dr. Seville smiled. "I wish all fiance's were as optimistic as you." _

_She turned to him, her face shrinking in confusion. "Fiancée?" _

_The Doctor nodded and walked away, patting her shoulder, leaving Olivia standing in complete awe as she peered into his room, the good Doctor's words repeated in her head. Her body felt heavy as she made her way into Peter's room as the ventilator hissed again and sat in the chair next to the clear bag that held his clothes. Trying not to disturb him she rummaged through his jeans pockets until she found what she was looking for. _

_Pulling a small, velvet pouch from deep within his pockets she opened the tiny bag and found herself lost of air. Inside the pouch was a gold ring with two diamonds encrusted into the band as they shined in the florescent hospital lights._

It had been a harrowing fourteen days since Peter was shot, mortally wounded and unconscious for four days. It had been fourteen long days and nights since she almost lost him. He should not have lived, based on his injuries and the Doctors' prognosis, but like many times before, Peter had beaten the odds. Three days after the incident he had awoken from the coma, hazy and beat, but alive. Leaning back on her heels Olivia bit her lip as she traced his name in the head stone; cold marble pressed the pads of her fingers as she felt the stone pulse, a phenomenon she was sure she imagined as silent tears fell from her eyes as she smiled.

"No amount of thanks can ever stack up to what you did," she whispered to the quiet ground, "If it weren't for you, Alex, this world would be darker than it was. I kept my promise, I thought you should know, and I'm hoping to have everything cleared by tomorrow. You've got nothing to be ashamed of, not anymore." She licked her dry lips. "I think you'll be happy to know that Jake is being taken care of. We found a nice foster home with two older children and he's never been happier. I hear they're talking of adopting him."

"Aunt Liv?" called Ella's voice behind her as the young girl's feet padded around the moist grass, "Did you find him?"

Olivia's fingers lingered on Alex's name, carved in immortal stone. "Over here, Ella, row thirty."

Prancing through the grass Ella made her way down the path with a bouquet of flowers in her hand. Behind her a young boy trailed with an ever present hesitancy in his steps and new-found curiosity in his eyes. Jacob Handler glanced around slowly at the row of head stones until he came to the fresh dug Earth, his fingers still laced with Ella's small palm.

"Is… is this… him?" Jacob asked in a small voice as Ella sat next to Olivia. With a smile on her face, Olivia wrapped her arms around Jacob and pulled him into her lap as he read the headstone, his hand still holding Ella's.

_Alexander Handler  
Beloved father and hero_

Resting her chin on the boy's shoulder, Olivia spoke in soft tones, "Yes, Jake, this is him. Alex, your father, was a brave and endearing man," she said, pulling a picture frame from the bag she carried and set it beside the grave as Ella dug a hole for the flowers they had purchased. Leaning forward Jake slowly reached a hand out and traced his father's name in the stone, finally getting the chance to touch his father for the first time since he was an infant.

"What happened to him?" Jake asked as his eyes watered, "Why did he die, Olivia? Someone told me he was a bad man, a murderer. Is that true?"

She tightened her arms around the boy's small waist as he leaned into her. "Your father was a man of many misunderstandings, Jake, but he died being a hero, because that's what he was in the end. Whatever bad things he did, he made up for them a hundred times over. He had his own demons to fight, but in the end, he saved the lives of many people. If it weren't for him we wouldn't be here right now. He gave his life to protect those who needed it. To die a hero is the highest honor anyone could receive." Olivia said with a smile. "And your father was just that."

Jake's eyes welled with tears as he traced his father's name again, glancing at the picture that was now displayed on the Earth at the base of the head stone. Slowly, a smile crept over his face as he drew in a quick breath. "Then that's what I want to be- a hero- like my father."

Olivia grinned at the young boy. "He'd be proud of you, Jake; I have no doubt about that." Her heart swelled as she watched Jake stand and press his lips against the cold marble of the head stone, whispering words not audible to the human ear. For a few moments more the trio sat on the cooled Earth and gazed at the quiet grave while Olivia gave Jake the final moments of his father's life and the heroic tale she weaved.

Around them a gentle fall wind whipped past, kissing their skin with a delicate hint of winter; leaves danced in a ballet all their own around them. A little while longer they sat until the wind chilled them to the bone. Saying a final good bye Olivia stood with Jake and Ella at her sides and they parked, leaving Alex to once again, rest in peace.

* * *

_FBI Headquarters  
5:00pm_

Broyles exhaled slowly as he sat back in his chair; the bearings rocking gently back as he balanced on his toes and allowed the final draft of Olivia's report to sink in, his mind making circles around it. Leaning further back he rubbed his tired eyes and sighed, closing the file slowly. It had been a crazy two weeks; two weeks that had flown by in the blink of an eye. Between Peter fighting for his life, Walter refusing to leave his bedside and his star Agent just as lost, Broyles wasn't sure what to think anymore. In reading Olivia's report, his mind just hurt more. Was a criminal simply that talented at crafting such a plan? As evidence pointed, yes, a feat he was simply amazed at. But what had made his mind jump even further were the events he witnessed right before Peter was shot.

Had he been that oblivious to the pull between Peter and Olivia? He knew inter-office relations weren't looked too kindly upon. Any division head would have transferred them apart in an instant. He knew of her relationship with John Scott all those years ago. He should report it- and yet- something in Broyles had made his heart smile to see his lead investigator finally have a bounce back in her step. She had looked unhappy for too long.

Standing, he grabbed the final piece of paperwork to add to the pile and exited, his sights aimed for Dunham's office. Taking a quick breath he rapped on the frame. "Dunham," he said firmly.

Jumping slightly she grinned up at him through the fading bruises and stitches that skewed the lines of her face. "Sir," she responded professionally and began to stand slowly, but he stopped her, insisting her to sit back down.

"I read your report; I'll have it filed in the morning. One other thing I need you to sign," he said, handing her the paper. "This comes from the Washington office, your request to clear Handler's name has been approved, given the circumstances."

Olivia smiled to him, the yellow bruise on her cheek raised with it. "That's excellent to hear, thank you, sir."

He leaned against the chair in her office. "How is your niece?"

Despite his suggestion, Olivia stood, grimacing and stretching. "Ella's doing fine, thank you. She's just happy to be home. Rachel can finally sleep again." Walking around the corner of her desk she handed him the paper with a sideways grin.

"And Peter?"

He saw a strange, split second hesitancy in her eyes. "Peter's doing okay. The hospital released him a few days ago and Walter's nursing him back to health. They say he's lucky." She chuckled, "Walter's driving him insane but that's a given. I spoke to him yesterday and he's resting and relaxing."

Broyles nodded. "That's good to hear." Olivia nodded in return. Broyles sighed. "How long?"

Olivia shrugged, "His doctor says he's out of work for-"

"That's not what I mean, Agent Dunham. How long have you two been seeing each other?"

Her smile faded as she crossed her arms over her chest- a kid caught with her hand in a cookie jar. She cleared her throat, the blush rising in her cheeks. "A few weeks; since we returned from New York."

Broyles stiffened seeing the panicked expression in her eyes. "Dunham," he began, but in true Olivia fashion, she cut him off at the pass.

"Look, I know the FBI isn't a fan of inter-agency relationships, and I should have learned that with Scott, I understand that. But this is different, sir, you have to understand that."

Broyles sighed, "Dunham-"

"If you're going to transfer him or worse, me, then you'll have my resignation letter as soon-"

"Dunham!" he said over her, silencing Olivia immediately. "What I was going to say was the next time you see Bishop, give him my regards for a speedy recovery."

Taken aback by his statement, Olivia closed her mouth and her face scrunched. "I… I will, sir."

Without another word Broyles left Olivia standing in what appeared to be utter confusion, the sighed paper firmly in his grasp. As he exited, he couldn't help but let a small smile creep across his stern face at the look on her face. It was the happiest he had seen her in years, and that was something he didn't have the heart to tamper with. Love, he knew, was something short lived. When it struck, it struck hard and quick, a vicious tide that could either leave one beached or swept out to sea.

He took residence again behind his desk and scanned the office before him. A few minutes passed until he watched Olivia emerge from her office, lock the door and make her way towards the exit with a smile on her face. He wasn't the hard ass he made himself out to be. Sometimes it was nice to be the good guy on the end. Packing up his belongings he too decided to call it an early night. Gathering his belongings he stood, shut off the lights and with a hop in his step, closed the door behind him.

* * *

_Bishop Residence  
7:00pm_

"Walter, I _hate_ pork chops."

"You like bacon, so I don't understand why pork chops are any different."

Peter rolled his eyes as Walter placed a slab of meat on his son's plate, "That's because they're made differently. Besides, that's still a little heavy for my stomach. The chicken you made the other night didn't settle well with the pain killers," he sipped his water, "At all."

"Well perhaps you shouldn't over indulge like you did last night," Walter said as a matter-of-factly. "Don't deny it, Peter, your first night being able to eat something truly solid, you ate too much. That's why the chicken didn't settle. It has to do with digestion and the enzymes-"

"Walter, c'mon, I really don't need a biology lecture. I understand just as well as you do about digestion."

Walter looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Okay. What would you like to eat?"

"A burger and a beer would be nice," Peter said, leaning over the island, smirking.

His father turned, giving Peter something he rendered as a dirty look. "The Doctor said nothing heavy, so I think cows and alcohol are out of the question. Lucky for you, because I know you so well son, I whipped up a batch of blueberry pancakes for the occasion. The pork chop was merely a test."

Peter huffed, "A test for _what_?"

"Just to make sure you're back to your old self. You took quite a knock on the head, son. I was worried about you, but I think Olivia was more worried than anyone else." He said, pulling the plate from the fridge. "Peter," he asked, his grin faded, "How long have you and Agent Dunham been seeing each other?"

"Walter," Peter groaned, "Does that really have to be the topic of conversation at the moment?"

His father nodded. "I have good intentions behind my question, Peter. I haven't seen either you or Agent Dunham that happy in a while, and I'm glad you two finally kicked it off. She's a wonderful young woman, a good fit for you. Besides, I'd like to see grandchildren before I pass."

Peter laughed, splinting his side with his arm and gazed at Walter with a new admiration. "A few weeks now. That trip back from New York, the night you stayed over in New York."

Walter bit his lip. "Actually…" he paused, waving the spatula in the air. "Never mind." Had he told Peter he knew about his son and Agent Dunham, he was sure he'd never hear Peter mention the task again. Taking the pancakes from the microwave he placed three on Peter's plate with a gentle coating of syrup. "Eat up, Peter. I made them especially for you."

Once again, Peter smiled at his father. "Thank you, Walter. I really do appreciate it."

He nodded. "How are you feeling, since we got home?"

Peter swallowed the mouthful of pancakes, licking his lips happily. "I'm just happy to be home. Those hospital beds are awful, they really are."

"Have you spoken to Olivia?"

"I spoke to her the other day; actually, she apologizes for not coming by the other night. She had to go to Washington to stake her case for the dismissal of Handler's prior convictions and clear his name. Not an easy task, but last I heard they were making progress on it." He shoveled another bite into his mouth, "Ella's happier than ever to be home and doing well, her report is finished and she was working on getting Handler's pardon settled. She mentioned she'd call me tonight."

Walter smiled. "That's good to hear her niece is doing well. That girl's got her Aunt's spirit, a good role model." Peter nodded in agreement. A few bites more and he stood gingerly, placing the plate in the dishwasher; Walter's senses kicked in instantly. "I take it you're going to see Olivia?"

Peter chuckled, slinging his jacket over his shoulders slowly. "Yes, Walter. I owe her a date, and given my state of mind and body, she settled for ice cream and whiskey." Before Walter could protest, Peter held up two hands. "The ice cream's for me and the whiskey for her, before you argue."

"Will you be staying the night?" asked Walter as he turned his attention to the pots, miniature bubbles floated from the suds.

Peter grinned at the slight disapproval in Walter's voice. "We'll see how long it takes her to get sick of me." Walter turned, glancing at him over his shoulder as Peter winked.

"Son, you need to rest," Walter protested, "And intercourse isn't the proper-"

Peter laughed aloud, the vibrations from his chest made Walter's heart smile. "Walter, she's just as sore as I am, I highly doubt that'll even come up into conversation." Grabbing his keys, he stood behind Walter and clapped his shoulder. "Should I say, I'll call you, I promise. If not, I'll see you when I get home. If you need me the number for her line and mine is on the fridge."

Walter nodded, smiling back at his son. "Tell Agent Dunham I said hello." Peter nodded, squeezing Walter's shoulder before leaving, and locking the door behind him. As Peter walked carefully down the front steps Walter couldn't help but let a wide smile spread across his cheeks and content settled in his chest. Peter was alive, and in love with a woman Walter would be honored to call his daughter-in-law. He felt like he could die right then and there a happy man with an eternal smile on his face.

Once again all felt right, he decided without a second's hesitation.

* * *

_Brighton, MA_

Five steady knocks and Peter waited patiently outside her door, an everlasting smile crept onto his face as the floor boards creaked on the other side of the door and the lock slid sideways with a metallic _click_. It had been a few days since he had seen the woman behind the door and it took almost all of Peter's self control to not jump through the thin wood and scoop her up in his arms. The knob turned, swinging the door open to reveal its best kept secret. Leaning on the edge of the door in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and a Northwestern shirt was Olivia Dunham, her smile matching his and eyes shining.

"Hi," she breathed through glistening eyes. With one single step Peter pressed his lips against hers, enjoying the taste of sweet honey and whiskey on her tongue. Letting his kiss linger a little longer he cupped her face, feeling her smile against his skin.

"You have _no _idea how long I've been waiting to do that," he confessed, stepping aside and letting the door close behind him.

Olivia grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's nice to see you too." She licked her lips at the sticky residue left behind. "Walter made pancakes again, didn't he?" Peter laughed as she released herself and made her way into the kitchen, the clang of glasses chiming past the wall.

"It's about the only thing that keeps my stomach settled. He made pork chops tonight."

She returned with two glasses and set them on the table, "You hate pork chops." Pouring a glass if whiskey she handed him a clear cup.

"None for me? Not really the date I had in mind."

"Oh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her glass. "What kind of date _were_ you thinking of?"

He turned the radio up a little louder as the soft twang of an acoustic guitar and soft melodies began to float around them. Grabbing her by the waist he pulled Olivia into his arms, interlocking her against his chest as he stared up at the ceiling, pondering, her hands resting on the strong muscles of his arms. "I was more thinking dinner, a bottle or two of wine and a nice warm shower after a walk through the park." Gently they began to sway back and forth to the slow rhythm of his heart.

"Would that shower be by yourself?" Olivia asked as a crooked grin spread on her cheeks. Peter gave no answer and chuckled, pulling her closer into his arms as they swayed to the music. He sighed, resting his cheek on her neck as she traced the outline of the hair at the base his head aimlessly.

"I told Walter about the engagement, by the way, and should it be any surprise he was rather thrilled about it." Peter muttered into the curve of her neck, his lips grazing her soft skin.

"Engagement?" her throat hummed into his ear, "What engagement, you never asked me- officially at least."

He lifted his head, gazing into her emerald eyes. "Well I kind of assumed it was a yes considering you're wearing my mother's ring." Removing her left hand from his shoulders she stared at the diamond ring as it glowed in the light, the jade of her eyes reflected in the gold band.

"But you never _asked _me, Peter, so technically it doesn't count."

"_But_ you're wearing it, I think that counts."

Olivia cocked her head. "Well if the question isn't asked it's just a piece of jewelry and nothing more. One of the biggest dreams a woman grows up with is her engagement story. Frankly out of all the ones I've heard I think this one takes the cake." She pressed her lips together. "I want to hear you say it, Peter."

He chuckled. "I'm not bending down. If I do that I don't think I'd get up." Olivia said nothing; instead she raised an eyebrow at him, making Peter blush. He swallowed and chuckled at the anticipation that echoed in her face. "Will you marry me?" He asked causally.

She shook her head. "Not good enough. I want something more… romantic."

"Ha!" Peter exclaimed, "What's more romantic than that?"

Olivia shrugged. "I don't know, spice it up a little. C'mon Peter, we're engaged. Make it memorable."

He sighed and matched her eyes before leaning in and kissing her suddenly, pulling her deeper into his embrace. "You, Olivia Dunham, are stubborn, ill-tempered, have the patience of a charging bull, obnoxious, and a down-right _pain __in __my __ass_. But given all we've been through, everything we're _going_ to go through, I can't think of anyone else I'd want to go through hell and back with. It's that and more that makes me love you more each day. So, with my heart, soul and everything in between, marry me." He said softly, moving a piece of stray hair from her face. "How's that?"

Olivia smiled, "I guess that'll have to do." Leaning up she kissed him as Peter laughed, stepping backward slowly towards her bed and pulling her in his wake.

"I guess I'm stuck with you now, eh?" he grinned, catching her lips again.

She turned on her heels, the back of her knees hit the bedside first, falling gently into the comforter as Peter climbed next to her, his deep ocean orbs swelled with pride, love and admiration for the woman beneath him. "You've _always_ had me, Peter." They sunk into silence again; lustful lips meeting and curious hands roaming aimlessly, rediscovering patterns almost forgotten.

_One by one clothes peeled from their warm bodies, and like tranquil autumn leaves, floated quietly to the floor…_

* * *

_Keep an eye out for my next fic coming up, entitled "The Shade of Poison Trees". Once again, I humbly thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews welcome! Catch you on the flip side! -WTR_


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